Beginning of the End
by Anniexus
Summary: An imagining of what Season 4 could have been like. I'm sure it's nowhere near what the authors desired, but it's my story so I get to have fun :) Enjoy & please review. I've set the rating at T but it might change. I'm not sure what it really should be.
1. Chapter 1

Page 44/41

Title: "Beginning of the End"

Summary: My continuation of 'Heart of Storm'.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Lost World or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Notes: I don't know how far I'll go with this but I really wanted to upload it so here we go…This is the alternate to my more fantasy ending "New World". No connection in the storylines. Creative criticism is always appreciated & if you review, please ensure your settings are set so that I can reply if you'd like answers or a reply. I had some trouble getting back to people about previous stories because their security settings were too high.

XXXXXXX

The world was engulfed for one moment in light and then blackness, the collection of energy having reached its highest point, and then it all stopped. As though the rules of time and space were run by someone holding a stopwatch, all things were frozen in time.

Veronica's cry of shock was stopped before it had really begun. She felt every molecule in her body being pushed and pulled in all directions at once. It wasn't really painful, but it was terribly strange.

Though she could no longer hear wind outside, she began to truly fear it was the end.

"It's all right, my dear. You're almost there," said a familiar man's voice.

Veronica was frozen and unable to move, but she desperately wanted to look around and see who had spoken in her ear. After all, Arthur Summerlee was gone.

"Just relax and it will be over soon."

"Summerlee?" It was more a thought than a verbal question.

"Yes, my dear." His fatherly voice emanated from the very air around her. It sounded distorted, like she was hearing his voice while standing on the bottom of a well. "Just relax and I'll see you soon."

Trying to heed her lost friend's advice, Veronica took a deep breath and blew it out, forcing herself into calm. Her mother's face came to her mind and she felt renewed hope. She relaxed a bit more.

And then it all stopped.

Veronica forced her eyes open, unable to recall closing them, and gasped.

She was inside an enormous, empty room made of marble and gold. The floor and walls were smooth white marble, gold veins running through it here and there. The ceiling was an artwork of crystal panes and gold supports that formed a pyramid around the circular room. Sunlight filtered through the crystal panes, lighting up the whole room so well it was like standing outside.

In wonder, Veronica spun in a circle, soaking in the splendour of crystal and gold.

"It's beautiful," said a familiar voice from behind Veronica, "isn't it?"

"Mother?" Veronica turned to see Abigail, much older than Veronica remembered, but still lovely, standing at the wall with a smile on her face.

Next to her was Arthur Summerlee, his smile just as wide and kind as she had ever remembered it.

Veronica rushed forward and the three embraced, tears in their eyes.

"Congratulations, honey, you're almost there," said Abigail.

"Mother, I don't understand. What's going on?"

"It's a test to see if you're ready to take on the responsibilities of being the Protector of the Plateau."

"You mean all the distortions and the storm are tests?"

"The storm was created to reset the energy of the plateau in preparation for the next step of your journey," said Summerlee, "and whether that happens properly or not will depend greatly on you."

"And the distortions?"

"Those are something else entirely," said Abigail with a frown. "Challenger's machine started small rifts in time, but they were isolated and relatively harmless. Something or someone we don't know harnessed the technology to create more. Whoever is behind it chose this time specifically. These rifts feed off the storm's energy, attracting them and making more grow, but we can worry about that later."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You already know, my love," said Abigail. "Like most tests, you have to look inside yourself for the answer."

"But I don't understand what that means. I don't know what to do."

"Yes, you do." Abigail placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "You just need to pause and listen to the voice in yourself. You learned all you needed here in Avalon."

"I don't remember Avalon, Mother."

"You do, but don't worry. The knowledge of what to do is in your blood. You were born with it."

"Will you help me?"

Shaking her head sadly, Abigail touched Veronica's face. "I'm sorry, but this storm was set in motion thousands of years ago by our ancestors. Good people sacrificed and died so that you could test your strength. I cannot interfere."

"But I -"

"Besides, you don't need me."

"I do," said Veronica, growing desperate. As hard as she was trying, she could think of nothing to save the Plateau. This was beyond her. It felt like a dream, like she was grasping for answers to the biggest questions by looking through fog. "I don't think I'm strong enough."

Abigail laughed. "Aren't you the woman who saved Arthur Summerlee's life by stealing honey from a swarm of enormous bees? Did you not defeat warriors, hunters, warlords, and more raptors than I can count?"

"Somehow I don't think those things are comparable to stopping a weather phenomenon."

"I didn't think I was strong enough to be a Protector either, but trust me when I say you are. You always have been. Just trust yourself and the answer will come."

"But it's a storm. How can I stop something like that?"

Summerlee smiled and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know this seems unbelievable and that it would seem to contradict everything you've ever been taught, but our world is made of much more than just what we see and what we sense.

"George Challenger would probably have you believe that there is nothing that can explain the world around us but science and logic, and while our world does operate within set rules like physics, science has not advanced enough yet to explain the most powerful aspects of the universe. It's us, Veronica. The power inside one human being is enough to create or destroy worlds. The power is inside everyone, but only a few have the ability to access enough of their potential to do what you and the others will be expected to do."

"I still don't understand."

"Our thoughts become things," said Summerlee with a patient smile. "In this case, your thoughts will have to manifest a means to calm the storm."

"But it's already so strong. By now it must be huge. The Plateau must already be destroyed." And though she couldn't bring herself to say it, it would have destroyed her friends as well. However, Abigail smiled again.

"We are in Avalon, my love, a place apart from the time limits of the universe you know."

"What?" Something tickled in the back of Veronica's mind. She was sure she'd heard those words before or something like them. "You mean Avalon is a different universe?"

"In a way. It's too complex to explain now. Just know that time is not a linear thing. It lives and breathes with us because it is formed by our own perceptions of it and while your time is not unlimited, the world will not disappear in the period you're here."

XXXXXXX

The room was white, blindingly white and sterile. Mordren, a younger, but otherwise identical version of his father, leaned over an enormous machine. He placed a crystal chip inside the lighted circuit board and replaced the covering.

The only other being in the room stood stoic and unmoving next to the machine. He had bits of machinery wired into his shaved head and a perfectly white uniform. Other than those two features there was nothing at all remarkable about the man. Though, if one were to look into his eyes, they might be disturbed by the utter lack of divine spark that is found in all other living creatures. The sight of him was such that anyone would realize having a beating heart doesn't mean you are alive.

Mordren had been in this place, this future New Amazonia for many months now, trying to do what his father had sent him to accomplish and it was finally ready. Of course, he knew his father was dead, killed by their natural enemies, the Protectors, but still their mission lived on.

"I've been stranded here for too long," Mordren said as he moved to the control panel in the corner and began pressing commands.

He might have been talking to the drone, but since the creature had little to no sense, it was more like thinking aloud.

"If my fool father had stayed here and kept the ouroboros safe instead of rushing after that Protector, we might not be so far behind schedule."

The drone, as expected, merely stared into space. Its human ears heard his complaint, but its mind was unable to process the significance of the statement or an answer.

Mordren had been stranded in the future after being dropped off by his father with the use of the ouroboros. Now that he had this machine, he could finally return and complete his purpose.

The computer system was ready. Mordren turned to the drone and nodded. The drone, who had all the appearance of once being a man, handed him a bag and took his place next to Mordren.

As the machine began to thrum, Mordren braced himself for what he would face. The drone simply stood as though made of marble.

In a flash of light, the white room disappeared.

XXXXXXX

"Come on!" Roxton shouted at his attackers. Out of bullets and cornered, he charged them, brandishing his stick much the way he'd seen ape men wield their clubs.

He was a few mere steps from the Conquistadors, so close that he could see the day's growth of stubble. One more step and he swung the branch around, connecting with one head and then another. He didn't stop even when he felt a bullet whiz past his shoulder. They might have had him outgunned, but with their bulky uniforms and the dense forest, he had the advantage in hand-to-hand combat.

One of the men pulled out a knife and came at Roxton from behind, but John's adrenaline-saturated mind heard the sound of metal sliding from leather and he turned in time to duck. The knife missed by millimetres.

As Roxton moved away, he bent and grabbed a rock, the stick still in his other hand. He swung the rock up and back down as the attacker passed and cracked the man on the head.

Another Conquistador aimed a gun at him from behind a log. Roxton lobbed the rock in the man's direction, forcing him to lose aim as the missile just missed him. Roxton took the opportunity then to run for it.

The bushes whipped past John, pulling at his clothing and scraping his arms as he passed, but he didn't dare slow down. The sound of pursuit was not far behind.

Chancing a glance, Roxton saw the Conquistadors putting on a good chase despite their armour. He braced himself to stop and fight again.

He was ready to turn, was raising the stick once more when everything disappeared.

Roxton had run right through another time distortion and into a man. The collision caused John to drop his stick. Caught off guard, Roxton had to take a moment to look around himself before he could get up or speak to the man he had just knocked over.

The walls were white as were the floors and ceilings. More than white, every surface shone with a pristine sterility that it hurt Roxton's eyes to look at anything for too long. And not four feet from where he lay in his dazed state was a table.

"Challenger?" Roxton exclaimed, recognizing the red-haired man strapped down to the white medical table.

"Roxton, look out!" Challenger called. Behind Roxton, the mindless drone, the slave to Technology, had picked up the scalpel he dropped when Roxton knocked him down.

A woman's strangely warbled and disembodied voice spoke. "Destroy him," said the computerized voice.

Without a flicker of emotion, the drone attacked. Roxton, warned by Challenger, rolled out of the way just in time.

Roxton could feel the blade graze his arm as he ducked several times from the merciless attack of the strange man in front of him.

He managed to grab the tree branch again and swung it up. It missed his attacker, but was a wild swing and smashed right into the computer, shattering the front panelling and damaging the circuitry. Sparks flashed. Roxton quickly dropped his weapon and backed away. Unfortunately, this meant he was once again fighting by his own might alone.

It was a lucky thing that his attacker was also momentarily stunned by the computer's destruction. For a moment something of conscious thought flickered behind his empty eyes. Roxton wasn't going to give him the opportunity to recover, though.

Putting as much muscle as he could behind it, Roxton gave the drone a right hook and followed up with a second. The man fell, knocking his head on the floor with a resounding crack. The Roxton used the opportunity to take one of the medical knives and cut Challenger's bonds.

"Thank you for that," said Challenger. He touched his fingers to his forehead, relieved when they came away damp with nothing more than sweat.

"You're welcome. Now," Roxton looked around in wonder, "where the hell are we?"

"We're in the future, in the year 4666, I believe."

"Oh, what makes you say that?" asked Roxton.

Challenger gestured to the broken computer, which remained silent and dark. "That is – or was a machine with artificial intelligence. It informed me of the situation itself."

"Artificial intelligence?" Roxton's tone was disbelieving, but looking around at his strange surroundings, he decided it may not be impossible.

Together, the two men pocketed several medical tools in case they would require weapons. That done, they went over to the drone-like man Roxton had knocked unconscious.

"What are we going to do with him?"

Challenger shrugged. "I suppose we should take him with us. He may be useful helping us navigate out of here if he can be persuaded to."

Roxton nodded. "I don't fancy leaving him here to sound a warning either."

"Well," Challenger looked at the computer again, "I suspect that reinforcements may already be on the way. That sentient technology rules this world. It probably sounded an alarm as soon as you appeared."

Roxton's eyes widened a bit at what that would mean. There was no way they could fight and win.

Together, they woke their captive up and hauled him out of the room.

The hallway they entered was much like the room they had left. White and sterile, the corridor curved so they couldn't see the end. Roxton allowed Challenger to choose a direction.

Their captive remained silent, permitting Challenger and Roxton to herd him along without complaint.

They crept along, trying to keep their footfalls from echoing. Though the slope was too gentle for either of them to feel it, their path not only curved but it went downhill as well.

"Do you think we can find a time distortion to take us back?"

Challenger shook his head. "I doubt it. That machine said it was responsible for the distortions. It wanted to bring me here so it could keep the future from changing."

"Why? How does it think you're going to change the future?"

"I suspect I already have, we all have," said Challenger, thinking fast to put the pieces together. "We took Finn back from the future and with the knowledge she's provided, we know to keep an eye out for Zoth, that any attempt to make a substitute for food will end in disaster, that sometime in the future there will be a devastating war and radiation poisoning." Challenger snapped his fingers.

"That machine said it took over after humans destroyed themselves," said Challenger. "I'm willing to bet it meant Zoth's reign. Finn did say he caused the destruction of civilization. What if us knowing about him in advance will change things? If Zoth never takes over, then humanity will survive and Technology won't become the ruling race. Humanity can grow and learn and maybe be better than the savages Finn described."

"I'll leave all that for you to figure out. Right now, I just want to get home."

"Yes," Challenger picked up the pace. "We should look for something that resembles my own machine. If we're lucky it may be in the same building. I suspect Technology never expected help to arrive so we could undo its work."

"You think they got the idea for all this from your notes, don't you?"

"I think it's a good possibility." They continued down the curving hallway for a few more minutes.

"Are there no doors in the future?" Roxton asked, exasperated at their apparent lack of progress. He looked around for something that was less obvious. Perhaps the doors were concealed or in their rush, they simply weren't seeing them. "How is anyone supposed to get in and out of this place?"

"There must be a reason for this configuration," said Challenger.

XXXXXXX

"How did we get inside this place?" Veronica asked as she surveyed the golden room. Silently, she marvelled at the magnificence of it, and the impossibility that both she, Summerlee and Abigail had gotten inside when there were no doors or opening windows.

Abigail smiled. "Arthur was actually the brains behind that."

"More like the guinea pig," said Summerlee with a bit of a blush.

"Don't be so modest. Without your input and work, Veronica would have had to be brought to Avalon long before now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Veronica. She looked to her mother. "I've dreamed for so many years about seeing you again. Why wouldn't I want to come here?"

"Because you'll have to go back and bringing you here only to have to send you home would have been cruel."

"Then," Veronica gestured around herself, "what is this? I am here and you're right; I don't want to go back. I've spent so long looking for you. You can't expect me to go back so soon, not after all I've been through to find you."

"I'm sorry, love, but it's the way it has to be. You still have things to do on the Plateau, which is why we left you there."

"So, I'm not really here?" Veronica resisted the urge to reach out and touch the walls. They looked strong enough and her mother and Arthur had felt solid when she embraced them. As much as she tried to, she just couldn't believe that what surrounded her was anything but real.

"No, no," said Abigail, reaching out to her daughter. Their hands clasped, enforcing her words. "Everything here is real and solid and you're really experiencing it, but only your mind is here. Your body is still on the Plateau, in the tree house. As I said, Arthur was the one who put it all together. Think of it as a dream made solid."

XXXXXXX

She was sitting on a gravel road, a car speeding up to her, close to running her down.

At the last moment, Finn dove to the side and took off running. She ran until she entered a stone and glass city she knew as well as Veronica knew the jungle or Challenger knew his lab.

The car pulled up behind Finn and herded her down a street, the men inside the car hollering all the time. They were more animals than men, just as she remembered.

Another figure appeared on Finn's right from an alley. Too late she noticed her danger. The man blindsided her, knocking them both to the ground.

In less than a second, one of the slavers from the vehicle had jumped out and together they managed to tie Finn's hands and feet. She struggled, but the bonds were tight. A blunt instrument to the head and her world went into painful darkness.

XXXXXXX

"Are you the one stopping the others from leaving the Plateau?" The idea had popped into her head without warning and once she said it, she was sure it was true.

"Why do you ask that?" Abigail's voice was calm and even, but the tightening around her eyes betrayed her guilt.

Summerlee looked at Abigail, his own expression looking shamed as well.

"You are!" said Veronica, looking between Summerlee and her mother. Her surprise mingled with gratitude that she would never mention to anyone. After all, if not for the explorer's failed attempts to leave she would be alone once again.

"Every time they try to leave, something unusual - even unusual for the Plateau - happens to stop them and if the Protectors are the ones creating these scenarios - these tests," she corrected with a bit of disgust as she thought of the lives lost during their trials, "then it must be the Protectors stopping them from leaving."

Abigail nodded. "It isn't time for them to leave, not yet."

"So, all our problems, all those people," she said, thinking of the Tinta, a village of orphaned children, her childhood love for Danu, and numerous other people who had lost their lives on the Plateau, "they died because you wanted to keep Roxton, Challenger, Marguerite and Ned here."

"No," said Arthur. "You must remember that we aren't the only players in this game."

"Mordren."

Abigail nodded with a dark frown. "Sometimes. He cares little about the lives of others or for the balances he is disturbing. I believe Lord Roxton met his friend Osric. Of course, people will be people and accidents do happen. Not every loss has been a result of our war."

"I must admit," said Summerlee, "My own return to Avalon was unplanned. I had intended to stay with you until this was all over, but it seems my fate had other things in store for me."

"We have tried to keep the casualties to a minimum. We are the Protectors after all."

Summerlee smiled at Abigail. "I do think Death enjoyed herself a little too much teasing Roxton."

"But why?" Veronica pushed. "Why keep them here?"

Abigail sighed. "Because we brought them here for a reason."

Veronica looked at Summerlee as well. "You too?"

Summerlee nodded. "I admit, despite my protests that live dinosaurs and the like couldn't possibly exist, I knew the Plateau was here all along. I'm afraid that the charade was necessary in order to drive the expedition on and put the Protector's plans into action. Challenger could always be depended on to be more stubborn and ambitious with someone questioning his theories."

"You could give Marguerite a run for her money in the acting department," said Veronica dryly, uncertain if she was mad or not about the deception.

"Yes, poor Marguerite." Summerlee smiled sadly and though Veronica had no idea what warranted such an expression, she had other things to ask about.

"But why did you bring them here?"

"For a reason I can't explain to you just yet lest it cloud your judgement. Please, just believe that it's for the best."

"But," Veronica thought hard, trying to work out everything, "you didn't lead them to the Plateau. Challenger found Maple White..." Veronica trailed off as her eyes widened, putting things together. "It wasn't coincidence. Xan's symbol in the journal..."

"We told Xan about the Plateau and the Ourorboros," she said with a nod. "When he had gathered enough power and money, he sent Maple White to find the other half. From there all the pieces fell into place. Challenger was in the area and came across Maple White before he died. When he returned to England, his discoveries led to the Challenger Expedition coming here."

Her explanation, she was well aware, left out a lot of details, including how the Protectors had ensured everyone would be at the right time and place and why they had not been told outright about the Plateau, but to tell that would be giving away too much.

"But why? You're going to have to tell me more than that. I can't face them knowing my mother is the one stopping them from returning home... not without some sort of explanation. I owe them more than that. I deserve more than that."

XXXXXXX

The burly Druid raised the dagger, both hands on the hilt.

"Roxton, where are you?" Marguerite cried. Only the chanting of the priests answered her.

The priest with the blade smiled as he plunged it down towards her heart, her scream piercing the still air.

Like the last time she and Roxton were trapped in a cave, she felt Death's hands reaching closer for her than she ever had before. Her terrified heart thumped so hard one would have thought it was trying to save itself by escaping her breast.

The blade was five inches from Marguerite's flesh when a gunshot rang out, diverting it slightly from its original course.

The priest cried out and collapsed on top of the altar in pain as the bullet caught the side of his mid-section.

One hand automatically clutched at the wound and the other hand gripped the handle of the blade harder, convulsively.

The falling blade still landed on Marguerite as the priest fell on the stone slab with her. Thanks to her shuffling quickly to the side, it glanced off her rib cage. It left a long graze that would require attention, but not be fatal unless infection set in.

She looked over to the doorway, the only place a rescuer could have come from and saw both a strange and relieving vision.

Roxton stood at the door, holding an outdated handgun, much like she had seen in the hands of the conquistadors. His clothes too were outdated and much like the Spanish explorers. The only difference being that he was dressed much more simply, as though in his need to escape he had removed some of the more cumbersome layers in favour of just trousers, shoes, his weapons, and a shirt.

"Everyone back away from the lady," said Roxton in a commanding tone. It was John's voice and yet it wasn't. It held the same qualities, but held more authority and coolly detached composure, like a man used to commanding his enemies to step down, to surrender. His accent was also more prominent, a touch of a foreign, rough seafaring lilt.

As he took a step closer, Marguerite noticed that his hair was a fair bit longer than her John Roxton usually kept it. It was then that Marguerite realized why Roxton was dressed so differently and lacked his usual weaponry.

This had to be Lord John Roxton's ancestor, Captain Roxton.

When the druids didn't immediately release her, Captain Roxton raised his gun again, though Marguerite knew it would have only had one shot. The druids backed off, their leader still clasping his hand to his bleeding side and cursing up a storm in his own language.

The dagger slid from the leader's hand.

As soon as her limbs were free, Marguerite jumped up.

On a whim, she snatched up the dagger her attacker had dropped and ran to Roxton and the door. Just as his descendant might have, Captain Roxton ushered Marguerite out of the cave, his hand at the base of her spine. She could hear the leader of the druids shouting orders for the men to follow her as soon as the gun was out of sight.

"Come on," Roxton urged. He grabbed her hand and led her into the forest.

"Where are we going?" Marguerite asked between laboured breaths. She had already run a great deal in the past few hours and there was a stich flaring up in her side. She hoped this Roxton knew a safe place.

"If we can get to the river I travelled up, we can retrieve my skiff and return to my ship."

"Your ship? You mean you actually brought a ship to the Plateau?"

"What plateau? I thought this was Eleuthera Island."

Marguerite yanked her hand out of Captain Roxton's grasp. In the back of her mind some old geography lesson came back to her and she noted that Eleuthera Island was within the Bermuda Triangle.

"Come on," he said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away.

"I can't. I have to find... my friends." She had hesitated, about to say she needed to find Roxton, which would have only been awkward.

"We can't -" Captain Roxton's words were cut off as the air around Marguerite shimmered. Once the distortion was gone, so too was Marguerite.

Disappointed and surprised, Captain Roxton looked around, but the woman was completely gone.

A new shimmer of light caught his attention and he stared in wonder as the light grew, opening what looked like a rift in mid-air.

XXXXXXX

"I'm not allowed to tell you anything," said Abigail and as Veronica's shoulders slumped, Abigail hurt to know she was disappointing the daughter she loved more than anything.

Veronica turned her head, not wanting her mother to see the conflicting emotions the negative answer caused.

"But..." Abigail hesitated and glanced at Summerlee. "But if you must have something you can tell your friends then you may tell them their presence will be needed in Avalon shortly. They will be asked to perform certain duties which by rules beyond my controlling I cannot disclose just yet, but they may know that many things they have experienced have been tests to ensure that when they come to Avalon, they will be ready."

"Why them? There are plenty of people on the Plateau to choose from. Why did the Protectors -" she looked to Summerlee, "- why did you choose to lead them here?"

"Because this is their destiny. It is who they are and what they are meant to do. No one else will suffice. No one else can do what they can do."

XXXXXXX

Finn ran through the crumbling city, the remains of her broken bonds still dangling from her wrists, the slavers hot on her trail. It was useless. They had vehicles and she had only her own two legs. While that was usually enough, she was tired and still feeling the effects of the bump to her head.

The swaying leaves of the jungle loomed before her and she took a chance, hoping that the terrain would be too rough for the vehicles.

She leapt over a fallen log and ducked under branches, thankful that in the future she would at least not have to look out for dinosaurs or apemen along with the slavers.

Heavy breathing and the snapping of underbrush alerted Finn to the presence of a man following close behind. She didn't dare look back, but judged that he was no more than three or four metres away.

The roar of an engine to her right dashed her hopes of avoiding the slaver's vehicles. It ran parallel to her, unable to get too close as she dodged and wove between trees and over rocks.

There was a large tree surrounded by extremely dense foliage that she recognized off on her left and she altered her course to get to it and the cliff that she knew lay behind it. The man's steps fell back a little as he overshot the spot where she had turned.

Air rushed into Finn's lungs with her deep breathes. It burned as did the muscles in her legs, but she didn't dare slow. Adrenaline and her knowledge of what happened to slaves pushed her forward. If she could get to the cliff and climb up, she may be able to outrun the slavers.

The tree, the marker for the cliff's steep face was within spitting distance when something wrapped around Finn's legs. The net tangled her feet and she fell to the ground, crashing through the bushes and over the rough ground. Her shoulder popped. The pain of the dislocation flooded her senses through the rushing adrenaline.

"Here, tie her up properly this time," said one of the slavers from the jeep. He tossed a rope to one of his companions on the ground who promptly tied Finn's hands. She hissed as he roughly jostled her dislocated shoulder, but could do nothing as they hauled her up and into the jeep to be taken back to camp.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite wandered through the jungle in what she believed was the general direction of the tree house, hoping for some sign as to where and when she had been transported. If her guess was correct, it would be a week-long walk home at least.

Luckily, so far all she'd come across were a few slow ape men. She had hidden beneath a fallen log as the hunting party passed, their clubs red with the blood of their successful hunt. A small dinosaur was carried between them.

A bit of movement to her left had Marguerite quickly backing up in preparation to run. She had no gun, just the Druid's knife hidden in her boot.

Flashes of brown, black and white dashed through the trees and the sound of a horse's hooves reached her ears. Marguerite just managed to pull the Druid's knife from its hiding spot and hide it up her sleeve when the horse and rider became visible through the trees.

"Marguerite! Well, it is nice to see you again." Francois Locke, once known as Olmec, was just as Marguerite had remembered, right down to the cheerful, slightly arrogant smile. He pulled his horse to a stop a good distance from her, but dismounted and came closer once he saw that she was unarmed.

"Locke, how have you been?" Marguerite attempted to sound as formal and unconcerned as possible, rather difficult when facing a trickster god without any decent weapons. Absently she wondered again what time she was in. This Locke knew her and yet by his continued distance also knew she didn't trust him. Had she stumbled into a future where Locke returned to the Plateau?

Locke spread his arms in a grand gesture to show her his good health. "Please, call me Francois. We are acquaintances, are we not? I've been just fine, as you can see." His dark eyes roved over her, settling on the left side of her rib cage where a red stain had spread. "However, I've seen you looking better. What happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," she said and turned partly away from him - though still keeping the trickster within sight - to continue her walk home. Before she had taken more than two steps, Locke was at her side, his hand at her arm.

"You don't need to fear me, Marguerite. Let me help you."

"Help me?" She smiled, but it held no humour. "And just how would you propose to do that? Are you going to try to drown me again?" Locke's lips twitched at her angry tone. "Because murder doesn't exactly fit into my definition of 'help'," she said and yanked her arm out of his grip.

"I never tried to murder you, Marguerite," said Locke with a Cheshire smile. "I did and still do want to make you immortal."

"You just wanted to steal -" she started angrily, her temper rising to the surface despite the danger of angering such a man, but Locke interrupted.

"And to show some of my good intentions, I'll take you back to your tree house so you can get the treatment," his eyes flickered to her blood-stained blouse, "you need." He stood back and gestured to his horse, indicating Marguerite should precede him.

Marguerite thought for a split second about jumping on his horse and galloping away, but then remembered what had happened the last time she tried it. It was a dilemma. She desperately wanted to get back to the tree house as soon as possible, but she knew all too well that Locke could not be trusted. An old lesson sprung to mind and the impulse to follow it was too strong to ignore. That which could not be trusted must be understood.

"Why are you here?" Marguerite asked. Locke's smile faltered the tiniest bit and she knew without a doubt that she had to get as far away from him as possible.

"It must be fate," he said, smile back in place. "I was visiting the Plateau, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and here you are."

"Of all the times and all the places for a trickster god who can travel through time and space to end up, you come galloping right to my feet." Her eyes narrowed even as her body grew still, tensing for a fight. The knife slipped from her sleeve to her waiting palm. "How convenient."

Locke's smile was more a grimace now, but he made no move for her. "All right, I admit it. I was looking for you and I stumbled across this." He gestured around himself. "I must admit, these time distortions are intriguing. Even I can't travel between time periods with such ease as whoever is creating these... rifts."

The loud croaking of a parrot in the trees drew Locke's gaze and not wanting to wait around, Marguerite took flight once more, running through the forest as fast as she could. From behind her Locke's voice shouted, sounding oddly more concerned than angry.

"Marguerite, come back!" Locke ran after the fleeing woman. With his longer, stronger immortal legs he would easily catch her.

A time distortion appeared up ahead and Marguerite took her chance. She veered towards it, hoping for somewhere safer, somewhere Locke couldn't follow.

XXXXXXX

Veronica paced alone in the empty marble room. Her mother and Summerlee had disappeared just as mysteriously as Veronica had appeared. They had been gone what seemed like hours. Despite the assurances Abigail gave, the answer eluded Veronica and she once again grew anxious with her lack of progress.

If only there was an enemy to defeat or a task to perform she would feel better, more confident. This grasping at riddles she didn't understand was more frustrating than anything she'd ever encountered.

She gave a shout of frustration and hit the wall, but that only served to make her hand throb. So much for this place being a dream, she thought. She rubbed the abused flesh absently, thinking how Ned would have chastised her for lashing out like that.

She almost smiled thinking of how Roxton would have told her to calm down and think. Marguerite... Veronica could just imagine what that woman would say and she was suddenly glad to be alone in her predicament. While the others would have been supportive, there was no doubt in Veronica's mind that Marguerite would have been the exact opposite.

She could just hear Marguerite's irritated tones telling Veronica to get on with it, that she should do what Abigail said and just fix it. Come to think of it, thought Veronica with a smile, Finn might have said the same thing. Those two were eerily similar in some ways, including how they dealt with their impatience.

Veronica stopped pacing, a thought just occurring to her. Perhaps she was trying too hard to look for a course of action. Just as Roxton had once taught Veronica to stop and listen to her intuition when searching for a way to save Summerlee from the bee sting, Abigail had told her to pause. Perhaps she had meant that.

"Okay, I guess there's not much else to do." After a short debate, Veronica chose to sit in the centre of the room. She crossed her legs and after a brief look up at the impressive pyramidal ceiling, closed her eyes, concentrating on trying to relax. Starting on calming her erratic breathing, Veronica focussed on steady breaths. Pretty soon, she felt her shoulders loosen and her spine lost some tension. It was easier than she expected.

As she continued to breathe in and out, an image of an enormous storm came to her mind's eye. Like a fly on the wall, Veronica could see the swirling clouds encompass the whole Plateau and spread out to the entire world. Oceans washed over the land and whole chunks of continents were ripped up into the cyclone. Not giving any thought to what she was doing, Veronica gave herself over to the vision and her feelings.

There were pricks of light all over the world and she sensed an energy coming from them, still frozen in time. She bent her attention on one of these lights and was surprised to see a group of people inside a ring of large standing stones. They had their eyes closed as they chanted, their voices drowned out by the winds. She sought another of the lights and a single woman appeared, sitting on her living room floor, legs crossed and eyes closed as she sang.

They were Protectors, lending their energy to help reset the power of the Plateau and the world just as Arthur had said.

Knowing she wasn't alone in this made Veronica smile and the burden easier to bear.

There were darker spots as well, family to Mordren, but they too were aiding in the adjustment so Veronica paid them no heed.

There would be a time - like an omniscient observer in a dream she knew how it would be - to confront the line of Mordren, to reassess and shift the balance of power between them, but not now.

Entranced by her task, she focussed on the eye of the storm. Her sight zeroed in on the very centre, falling on the tree house and then the markings her mother had left for her as a child. There, despite all logic, stood Veronica herself. Her eyes were closed and she stood as still as a statue despite the surrounding storm. Her gaze returned to the storm.

She could feel the energy of the storm around her and infusing her own being.

Time started again and when the blinding light had burnt out, there was nothing but blackness. Earth wasn't really gone, just absorbed for an instant into every particle, every cell and atom making up the rest of the universe. For the briefest of moments everything was part of everything, the stars themselves turning blank.

Like a drop of water returning to the atmosphere to be cleaned and reformed, everything returned to a state of perfect unity and synchronicity. The climax of centuries of built up and growing chaos finally over, the universe returned to itself, the undercurrents of energy once more flowing as they should be.

There was a falling sensation and then blackness. Veronica heard a low voice chanting words she didn't understand and felt a cold wind against her skin, but couldn't see anything or move, not that she tried. Caught in the moment, she listened intently to the mysterious voice. It took her a minute or two to realize it was her own. She tried to understand the words, almost could, and then, like a dream slipping through her slowly waking mind, the knowledge left her.

Veronica blinked a few times, amazed to find herself back in the tree house.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite wandered the deserted city of the future without really knowing where she was going. The wound in her side had opened and begun bleeding several times with her exertions. It throbbed and ached with every step and she was sure infection was setting in.

All she could do was keep walking and survive until she stumbled into a time distortion that would send her home. He only consolation for the moment was that there didn't appear to be anyone else around. Without a gun or any other weapon besides the dagger hidden in her boot, she would be helpless against slavers or anything else.

In the distance she could hear the roar of an engine. Immediately wary, Marguerite stopped and listened, but the vehicle was a good distance away. The engine cut off, returning the deserted city to its unnatural silence.

Though she knew it was foolish and that she should remain as far away from the slavers as possible, old habits die hard. Curiosity and the old instinct to always keep tabs on her enemies drew Marguerite closer to where the engine had last been heard.

XXXXXXX

Challenger and Roxton finally reached a door. It would have been impossible for them to miss as it blocked their path. The only problem… there was no handle, just a keypad on the wall.

Their captive remained impassive and silent as though nothing at all were happening.

Roxton tried to pry the door open with one of the larger knives he'd lifted from the medical lab, but couldn't wedge it in far enough to get leverage. He stepped back and eyed the robotic man.

"Open it," he ordered. To both his and Challenger's surprise, the man complied. The door slid open easily.

Roxton and Challenger exchanged surprised looks.

"Perhaps in the absence of the computer to give orders, he'll do as we ask."

"Yes," said Roxton, unconvinced, "or maybe he's just trying to lure us into a trap." He took a quick peek inside, but didn't see anything of immediate danger. "I'll go first. Stay close."

Challenger nodded. "Good luck."

Slowly, and looking around himself as he went, Roxton entered a vast room that made him more confused with the more he took in.

The entire room was crowded with equipment he'd never seen before. Roxton turned to Challenger, hoping for an explanation, but the scientist seemed as befuddled as he was.

When they were about halfway through the room, Challenger let out a gasp. Roxton turned to see Challenger examining a huge piece of equipment. It was about the same size as the tree house. Though Roxton was no scientist, the device looked somehow familiar.

"What is that?"

Challenger shook his head, muttering to himself as he ran his hands over the enormous device. Their captive stood silently by, watching without any glimmer of intelligence to suggest he understood what was going on.

"Challenger," Roxton called louder. "What is it?"

"I think," said Challenger with some hesitation, "this is how we were brought here." He ran his hand over a panel and pulled it off, revealing a complex circuitry that he'd never seen before. It was composed of crystals, clear plastics, and copper lines to allow the flow of electricity. "I think this is my transportation device."

"But it's huge!"

Challenger nodded. "And infinitely more complex, and what's worse... I don't have a clue how to operate it."

XXXXXXX

Finn sat alone in her prison, a construction of strong saplings and rope large enough for twelve or so people. She propped her back against the thick wooden bars and tried to ignore the men outside the cage as well as the throbbing of her dislocated shoulder. She couldn't fix it herself and the slavers had decided to leave her injured to ensure at least some complacency.

Twelve in all, the slavers had made this secluded part of the deserted city their base camp for this particular hunt. At the moment, they sat around a large fire in the middle of their camp, eating rations. They were loudly and crudely talking.

A few times one or two of them would look over at Finn, their eyes greedy in the flickering light and she had to suppress a shudder of revulsion.

"Pigs," Finn muttered. She turned her gaze away from them in case it provoked them and looked into the darkness.

For the shortest of seconds, she thought she saw a pale, familiar face peek out from behind a crumbling pillar.

She blinked and the face was gone. None of the slavers appeared to have seen it, so Finn assumed it had either been a trick of the light or she was going crazy.

It was late into the night by the time the slavers settled down. They didn't bother posting a sentry as no one in their right mind would attack a slaver's camp. Besides, these hardened thieves and rapists were the dominant species in New Amazonia. What could attack them?

Finn's own head had just begun to dip with exhaustion when she spotted the pale face again, visible only because the white skin was illuminated by the bright moon. This time, the face appeared out from the other side of the compound. It disappeared as quickly as it had come and Finn had just decided it was her imagination when she caught a glimpse of movement in the forest behind her.

Marguerite raised a finger to her lips as Finn drew a breath as though to call her name. She smiled to herself. Certainly, if she were Finn, she'd be just as shocked if their places were reversed.

Without preamble, she took out the Druid's dagger from its hiding place in her boot and used it to cut through the recycled ropes used to hold the bars of Finn's prison together. It took a bit of work, but eventually two bars were cut loose enough for Finn to wriggle out.

The two women ran into the night, holding each other's hand so that they wouldn't get separated. They ran until exhaustion forced them to stop and Finn's knowledge of the area led them to a safe place for the night. Marguerite popped Finn's shoulder back into place, a bit of medical knowledge Finn was surprised that Marguerite knew, but was too tired to ask about. Together they curled up in a nook on the edges of the abandoned city and waited out the rest of the night.

XXXXXXX

Finn woke first, practically jolting awake at the unfamiliar feel of a warm body at her back. After a quick glance, her pounding heart began to calm. She was relieved, if not still a bit surprised, to find it was only Marguerite who was snuggled into her back. And that was the only word for it. As though she needed the security of another's presence as much as the warmth from it, Marguerite had rolled over in the night and pressed her face and curled hands as close as she could into Finn's back.

Despite the strangeness of their situation and the mysterious, often challenging nature of her company, Finn was touched by the feeling of being needed and a bit frightened by it. What if they were stuck in New Amazonia? How would they live? She had survived on her own before, but only just.

In a world where the land had been practically sterilized, able only to produce twisted vines and gnarly trees, there was no way one or even two people could either gather or grow enough food to survive. It required a group. She also seriously doubted Marguerite would do well in their situation. Though she had been told before that Marguerite was a survivor, she had yet to see it for herself. Besides, she suspected that Marguerite's talents for survival depended on the presence of others: a rich old man to suckle gold from, the kindness or naivety of strangers, or the steadfastness of her more recent companions.

They needed to get moving if they were going to avoid the slavers. Finn prodded Marguerite.

"What is it?" Marguerite groaned.

"We need to move," said Finn, automatically falling into survivor mode. "We don't want to get caught by the slavers again." Once again, Finn was surprised.

Marguerite stood, albeit a bit stiffly, without another word and allowed Finn to lead her deeper into the deserted city.

XXXXXXX

Roxton leaned against one of the strange machines and watched Challenger work. Outside the only door, they could hear the attempts of others to enter the sealed room. The silent man who had almost cut out Challenger's brain had been persuaded to lock the door behind them and now stood next to Challenger, helping him figure out the workings of the enormous machine.

Roxton had grown nervous when the banging and hum of machinery began, indicating that someone was trying to get into the room. However, it soon became apparent that the door and walls were too thick to be penetrated even by the people who made them.

"Any progress?" Roxton asked as he shifted for the twentieth time.

Challenger's answer was distracted, his attention completely on his work. "On a basic level it's not that different from my own invention. Just the materials and power source are different, things I've never seen or imagined. And I can't make heads or tails of the wiring."

"Can you make it work?"

"Well, almost certainly... with time."

"Sorry, but even with these thick walls I don't think we have unlimited time."

"Don't worry, Roxton, with the help of our friend here," he nodded to the silent man, "I think we may be able to go home in a few hours."

"And what do you propose we do about those time distortions? How are we going to make sure they don't do this again?"

Challenger paused. "I don't know. It's possible there's no way to control the distortions, which would explain why there were so many of them when they only wanted me." He thought about it for a moment. "I guess that also means it won't ever work well enough to get us off the Plateau."

"Or maybe this isn't what caused them," said Roxton, but Challenger was already shaking his head.

"No, this is the source. I'm sure of it." He moved another crystal chip in the circuitry to where his silent helper indicated.

"Maybe they were a distraction then or a side effect."

"I just hope that destroying the machine will stop the distortions. Although it is a pity," Challenger said with a sigh and fond look at the technology around him. "All these scientific wonders... all that effort for nothing. Just think what we could do with no limitations on our abilities. Instant travel through time and space and who knows what else? Amazing." There was definite longing in Challenger's voice now. Roxton couldn't blame him. They were standing in a room full of the objects and discoveries that Challenger had longed to build and test his whole life.

"Challenger, what about the others?" asked Roxton, a problem with their plan springing to mind.

"What about the others?" Another circuit fell into place.

"I was separated from Marguerite and God knows where Veronica and Finn are." Roxton didn't bother pointing out that everyone on the Plateau may have been sent to other times and places. Where were the Zanga, or the Amazons, the ape men or the head hunters? Were all of them jumbled into different times and places as well? An image of raptors running loose in London came to him and he shuddered. "Will this return them to where they're supposed to be?"

Challenger paused. "I don't know." He turned to the silent, robotic man beside him. "Is there a way to ensure everyone and everything is returned to their proper place in time and stop the distortions?"

Their silent captive nodded.

"Please show me."

XXXXXXX

Veronica stood just inside the perimeter of the electric fence, watching the forest. All looked calm. The storm was over, but she was wary. Something out there was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she didn't dare step outside the fence.

She leaned over and picked up a large rock.

She chucked it as far as she could over the fence and into the forest and just as she had suspected, the rock disappeared into a distortion. About a dozen throws later and Veronica had to conclude that she was trapped within the protective space created by her parents.

Whatever she had done to calm the storm had not stopped the time distortions and as hard as she had tried, she didn't have the power to do anything about them.

"I'm sorry," she said to the quiet jungle. "You're on your own for now."

XXXXXXX

It was well past noon when Finn gave in to a quiet plea from Marguerite for a rest. They found a crumbling building and sat just inside the doorway, able to see out and yet remain hidden.

Finn divided her attention between keeping watch on the crumbling city and the woman beside her. She wasn't able to help it. Finn was undeniably curious about what had happened to Marguerite to make her suddenly so quiet and obliging. Though they had walked all day without rest or food, Marguerite hadn't said more than a few words and not one of them a complaint. Even her request to sit for a minute had been more a broken plea and though Finn had asked, all Marguerite said was that she and Roxton were separated while fighting off a group of irate conquistadors.

"Marguerite, I don't mean to pry, but what the hell happened to you? I don't think I've ever seen you so... down."

Marguerite looked up. "What?" She hadn't been paying attention.

"What happened after you and Roxton were separated? You seem different. Is everything okay?"

But Marguerite just gave a false smile that even Finn could see through. "It's been a rough few days. I'm fine." She summoned up a bit of humour and looked down at herself in disgust. "And I could really use a bath."

"Marguerite -"

"I said I'm fine," she snapped and turned further to the side, allowing Finn to only see the right side of her profile.

Finn didn't get mad despite Marguerite's harsh tone. She knew all too well the effects stress had on people. "Marguerite, in case you haven't noticed, we're in a pretty dangerous place and the only way we're going to survive is if we work together. That means we need to trust each other."

"Really, Finn, it was just a difficult day."

Finn scrutinized Marguerite for a long moment and allowed the subject to drop. She wasn't entirely satisfied, but would accept the answer. "Okay." She looked up at the sky, judging the time. "We should get going if we want to reach a shelter by dark."

"I take it," said Marguerite with a forced smile, "that we would like that very much."

Finn nodded with a smile of her own. "Without a doubt."

Marguerite made to rise, but before she had even gotten her feet settled, a growing roar assaulted their ears.

"Slavers," Finn said, grabbing Marguerite's hand. Together they sprinted through the building to hide, hoping the men hadn't heard or seen them.

XXXXXXX

"There," said Challenger with a hesitant smile.

Despite his helper's silent assurances, Challenger had some doubts as to whether it would work or not. There was little in text books or even Challenger's own experiences to confirm how this would work out. After all, his own machine had been a brief experience in failure - and on a much smaller scale - which he had given up on as soon as he, Roxton, Marguerite and Finn returned from the future.

The strange assistant handed Challenger a small device and at Challenger's questioning glance, spoke for the first time. His voice was monotone and gravelly with disuse.

"You will be transported to your original time machine. Press this," he indicated a small button on the top, "to set the explosive and leave the cave."

With a nod, Challenger flicked a switch and stood, backing away to stand next to Roxton. They watched as a series of lights flickered, indicating a count down. Challenger clutched the explosive.

"Well," said Challenger, "if this doesn't work, I can't think of a better friend to die with."

Despite himself, Roxton's lips twitched. "Same here."

The sound of tools working on the door punctuated their need to escape.

Even before the countdown had finished, Roxton and Challenger began to feel something. Unlike their jumps through the distortions, this felt like a cold breeze surrounded them. It pushed at their bodies. Whereas before it was as though they had slipped easily through an opening in time, like jumping into water, this was like being forced through a solid wall.

XXXXXXX

The men were angry, shouting and throwing rocks at Marguerite and Finn as they fled the pursuing vehicles through the jungle. The rocks were aimed at the women's legs and backs in an attempt to make them stumble.

Finn ran as fast as she could. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were shaky. The steady rhythm of boots hitting the ground next to her were all the proof she needed that Marguerite was following.

As the shouting and shriek of the vehicles grew louder, Finn knew they had to do something fast if they were going to escape.

"This way," Finn shouted as she corrected their direction, leading them further away from the abandoned city. She spared a glance beside her to confirm that Marguerite was following and forced her body to cooperate. It wasn't much further now.

They burst through thick jungle foliage and emerged at the lip of a steep cliff. Finn ran right to it and slid to a stop at the very edge. Immediately, she dropped to her knees and turned around, preparing to climb down. Marguerite didn't follow.

"Hurry up or they'll catch us."

Marguerite looked around, her eyes wild. "Isn't there another way?"

"Not unless you want to jump." Finn gestured to the river far below that had carved out the cliff over the years. "I don't think it's deep enough for you to survive a fall from this height though. Once we get to the riverbed we can follow it up and away from the slaver's usual territory."

Sighing, Marguerite likewise lowered herself over the edge. Her arms trembled with effort and fear as she looked from the river below to the approaching trucks that were making their way towards them. Despite the rough terrain and hindering trees, the trucks were getting steadily closer.

The climb was hard and it was long. Their only consolation was that the slavers seemed to have moved on, not eager to brave the effort of climbing down the cliff after their elusive prey.

When they were about halfway down, Marguerite paused and looked around. She knew it was a dangerous move when pressed against a rock wall, but couldn't help it. Something felt off.

She felt... cold. There was no other description for it, like she was being squeezed by cold air. Every instinct told her it was wrong.

A little below her, Finn also halted. Confused and a little concerned, she was about to ask why Marguerite wasn't moving. She barely opened her mouth when she too felt the odd squeeze.

The unusual sensation increased and though she had no conscious recollection of letting go, Finn felt herself falling backwards into the chasm below. Her vision swam and someone screamed. She didn't realize it was her.

She and Marguerite reached out and grabbed at each other's hands, but they were too far apart. Marguerite was leaning over as far as she possibly could. It wasn't far enough to reach Finn.

With a gasp, Finn automatically tried to grab onto something, anything to stop herself from falling.

XXXXXXX

Challenger steadied himself as his feet shifted from the smooth surface of the enormous laboratory to uneven rock. He was in a cave, one he recognized all too well. The walls were coated in a crystalline compound that amplified energy and standing near the entrance - or where the entrance would be if it weren't blocked by a shimmering wall of light - was his invention.

He could almost feel the currents of energy bouncing off one crystal structure and then another. It made the hair stand up on his body. Challenger looked closer at the light at the entrance and realized it wasn't actually shimmering.

The scenes outside were shifting every second, giving the illusion of an ethereal atmosphere. He peered out, but could see nothing definite. Everything changed too fast.

With a sigh, Challenger took the explosive the man from the future had given him and placed it at the base of his machine. He pressed the button as instructed and watched the device light up. Then, taking his chances, he stepped out of the cave and into the unknown.

XXXXXXX

Finn's fingernails dug into her own hand, grasping at empty air. She opened it, almost as surprised to not see Marguerite's hand or figure beside her as she was to see the familiar main room of the tree house.

"Finn!" A squeal of delighted surprise preceded Finn unexpectedly being enclosed in a massive embrace by Veronica.

They had only begun to ask each other what happened when another familiar voice rose up from the forest floor below the tree house.

"Finn?" called Challenger. "Veronica?"

Both women ran to the outside landing and peered over. There, smiling in great relief and much-deserved pride, stood Challenger.

"Send down the elevator would you?"

XXXXXXX

The pressure increased. John forced his eyes to stay open, wanting to be ready for anything when he returned to his proper place in time. They began to water a bit as the room dissolved and the green of foliage began to appear.

As the solid, but softer ground of a jungle floor formed beneath his feet, a great flash of light and shimmering air blinded him. Automatically, he closed his eyes and flinched away from the vision. Nothing seemed to happen besides the light diminishing after half a second.

John Roxton's eyes opened and focussed on the jungle. It was where he and Marguerite had first been separated from their proper time. He looked around, but couldn't see either her or any sign of the Conquistadors.

Confused, John searched the vicinity for Marguerite, but there was no indication she had been there after they first disappeared. Wondering if she somehow made it back sooner than him, he took a last look around and hurried back to the tree house.

He made it back home in almost no time at all, running the whole way. He paused outside the electric fence to catch his breath and steady his nerves.

Inexplicably, his instincts shrieked at him that Marguerite would not be inside and if she was not in the tree house... Roxton knew all too well the dangers of the jungle. He didn't even allow himself to contemplate the dangers of other times or places.

His hands practically shook as he opened the fence. She's fine, he thought to himself. Marguerite is safe and in the tree house, he thought. As soon as you go up you'll see just how silly you're being.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite blinked a few times, unsteadied by the sudden change of scenery.

Everything had changed from the unfamiliar landscape of New Amazonia to what appeared to be shaping out as the jungle she knew better, and then to this. Birds called overhead as they soared with a warm breeze that lifted the sand and gentle waves into a fine mist. Marguerite tasted the salt in the air and knew she stood on the edge of the only salty body of water on the whole Plateau.

"The Inland Sea," she said in surprise. A man's voice behind her caused real shock and a thread of fear.

"Yes, I thought it would be a good place for us to talk," said Locke. He smiled at the way Marguerite backed away from him, her pulse throbbing in her jugular. A bit of fear was always a good thing to instil in people, in his opinion, but not in this woman. If she feared him, then his ambitions would fail as miserably as they did the last time.

"What do you want?" She didn't bother asking him how he managed to get her to the Inland Sea because she could guess. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever had separated her and Finn had something - maybe everything - to do with Locke. Marguerite took another step back.

Her feet met the edge of the water and she knew this was why Locke had chosen this place; she was trapped. He could have rushed at her, overpowered her easily despite the Druid's dagger, which she could still feel in her boot, and yet Locke kept his distance from her, even held up his hands to indicate he was no threat. The action confused Marguerite more than it reassured her.

"I want you to consider something," said Locke in answer to her question.

"Oh, and what is that?"

Locke smiled, at once amused and attracted to the imperious tone and body language she managed to pull off even when so decidedly without advantage. "I want you to consider me."

"Pardon?"

"I watched you long before you ever saw me, before I saved you from those cannibals when we first met. I know you think you love this Lord Roxton of yours and maybe you do," he said before she could interrupt indignantly. "But you can't be sure he loves you, can you?"

"He saved my life more times than I can count even when I deserved to be left for dead. If that's not love, then I don't know what is. Besides, you don't have a chance. Not that I think you're actually interested in me the way you say you are."

"But I am," he assured her. "I've lived many long years without once meeting my equal until I met you. Most women give in to their tender side, give up what they really want because it's what others expect of them, but not you. You never do what others expect you to. You pick and choose which instincts and which desires to act on. We are the same, just opposite sides of one coin." He chanced a step closer. "You pursue your desires, no one else's. I admire that and it's something I can help you with."

"I think you've built me up to be much more than I am and as for your help, I neither need it nor want it."

Locke laughed and stepped closer, pleased that she didn't flee or shy away, not that she had anywhere to go but to the water. "No. As I said, I've watched you. I know what I'm talking about."

"You didn't come here just to flatter me," Marguerite said, her tone icy. "What do you want, really?"

Locke ignored her tone. "I've also watched your Lord Roxton from a distance and I've grown concerned. I think he's going to leave you."

Marguerite scoffed.

"I'm serious, Marguerite. I've seen it hundreds of times and I know you've seen it yourself. Men like Lord Roxton aren't ever what they say they are. You know that."

"Oh, and you are?" Marguerite said, resisting the urge to flinch at his last comment. Locke ignored her.

"Men like Roxton are thrilled by the pursuit of their desires only to the point where their prey is either obtained or deemed a lost cause. Once their objective has been reached, they turn their back and seek other entertainment. I think you know this," he said and was rewarded by a silence that spoke more than any words she could have.

"Even if you do manage to hold his attention for a little longer, do you really think he or anyone else is going to consider you worthy of him? He's a man of status and great birth. Though I know the preciousness of spirit, we both know society doesn't value your virtues."

Marguerite had nothing to say to that. After all, she had only too much proof that her skills were valuable, but rarely valued.

"You may not have seen it because you didn't want to, but Lord Roxton has already started to look for new pleasures."

"You're lying." Marguerite searched her memory for any instance where it seemed John had wavered. She came up with nothing, but she had been fooled before and though it had happened years ago, the sting was still painful.

Locke shook his head sadly. "I'm not. Right now his interests are focussed on hunting and adventure, but if a new woman crosses his path, then I fear you'll have to take a back seat. I'm afraid the qualities you possess aren't properly appreciated by mortal men."

The trickster god took a deep breath and Marguerite knew he was coming to the main point of his speech.

"His loss of interest is coming and when that happens, please, consider my previous offer and join me as my companion."

Reaching to a bundle at his feet she hadn't noticed before, he handed her the weapons she'd dropped when grabbed by the Druids. She took them in astonishment. Grateful and feeling less vulnerable with the familiar weight of her holster and gun around her waist, she suddenly wondered about her assumptions.

"Unlike Lord Roxton, my interests are eternal until the day I die. I can promise you forever."

XXXXXXX

"Roxton, please calm down," said Veronica. Roxton was a fury, grabbing rifle and pistols and stuffing a pack full of emergency supplies in such a rush that she wondered how he didn't break anything. "I'm sure she's fine."

Finn echoed her sentiment, though both women as well as Challenger were grabbing their own supplies in a less hurried manner. They were tired and stressed, desiring a rest almost more than anything. "Marguerite can take care of herself."

Roxton didn't slow down at the women's reassurances. "I know she can take care of herself, but Challenger said we'd all be sent back to where we were before and we all were, but not her. What if something went wrong and she's wandering out there by herself, hurt and without any weapons?"

He finished stuffing a length of rope into his pack and rushed to the elevator, the others right behind him, exhausted, but loyal to their friend enough to search for her in spite of it.

"We should split up - cover more ground," said Finn.

Veronica nodded. "Finn, why don't you go with Challenger to the northwest and I'll go with Roxton to the southeast."

Finn, and Challenger agreed. Roxton barely got out a stiff nod.

As soon as the elevator was down, Roxton was jogging for the gate. He had just barely entered the tree line when a female voice halted him in his tracks.

"Where is everyone going?"

They all whirled around. Off to their right Marguerite emerged from the foliage, looking windblown and a little worse for wear. There were a few bits of twigs and leaves in her hair and more than one smear of dirt streaked her usually impeccably clean face. More than that, her eyes and expression were dulled from fatigue.

"Marguerite!" Everyone crowded around. Once everyone had managed to embrace her - much to Marguerite's surprise - Roxton asked where she had been.

"The Inland Sea," she said. "I was with Finn on the cliff and I felt like I was falling and then I was on the beach."

"What?" said Challenger. "You should have returned to where you and Roxton first left this time line."

Marguerite shrugged. She was too tired and simply relieved to be back to think up a proper lie for them. So instead, she settled for feigning ignorance, which wasn't difficult to do since she had no idea how she had escaped from New Amazonia, and just enjoyed the happy reunion.

XXXXXXX

That night, after everyone was clean, fed, and watered, the group sat around the main room. Finn sat opposite Challenger and Veronica, all with their feet up on the coffee table, exhausted and enjoying the time to relax. Roxton and Marguerite sat close to each other on the couch, much closer than they usually would be in public and though no one said anything, everyone noticed when Marguerite's hand slowly crept up to hold John's.

"And then I stepped inside and I felt energy all around," said Veronica, waving to the centre of the room where the markings were still exposed, the carpet rolled into a corner. Challenger and Roxton had already shared their story with the group.

"Fascinating," said Challenger for about the millionth time since Veronica and Finn had started their explanations.

"When Vee stepped inside," said Finn, "this bright, yellow light surrounded the tree house and then I don't know what happened. I sort of fell... into New Amazonia."

Four sets of eyes turned to Veronica. "The pendant – I don't really know what or how it happened, but I visited Avalon."

Marguerite, who up to this point had been uncharacteristically quiet, looked up in interest. "You saw your mother," she said, happiness for her friend sweeping through her.

Veronica smiled and Marguerite returned it. "Yes. Summerlee too."

"What?" John and Challenger said at the same time, leaning forward.

"Summerlee is in Avalon. He helped arrange things so that I could go there without actually going there."

"What do you mean?" asked Roxton.

"They said my body was still in the tree house, but my mind was in Avalon. Apparently the storm was a sort of test for me, to see if I was strong enough to stop it. It sounds crazy -"

Challenger shook his head. "I don't think we can discount much of anything on this Plateau."

"There's something else you should know," she said, dreading the next part. She looked into the eyes of the three Europeans who had spent so long trying to escape the Plateau, the Lost World, as Malone had once dubbed it.

"What is it, my dear?" said Challenger encouragingly.

"It's not a coincidence you are all here or that you haven't been able to find a way home yet." Veronica hesitated, watching their reactions. Marguerite seemed to turn to a statue, her large eyes fixed like needles on Veronica. Challenger and Roxton each raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Finn merely looked confused and curious.

"If it's not a coincidence, then what is it?" said Roxton. He still held Marguerite's hand, but as he leaned closer she gently pulled away and sat back, waiting for whatever news was making Veronica so edgy. Roxton was too preoccupied with his own curiosity to notice Marguerite's reaction.

"Summerlee – the Protectors need you, all of you for something. I don't know what for yet, but my mother assured me it's something important and that it's coming soon. Apparently you will be asked to do something to help them, but they wouldn't tell me what. To ensure you would be around and able to help them, they arranged some of the situations we've gone through as well as prevented you from finding a way off the Plateau."

"And Summerlee?" asked Marguerite, her tone cold enough to freeze a volcano.

"He knew." She watched her words sink in. Marguerite seemed to be the only one to grasp her meaning right away, her eyes narrowing to slits. Veronica looked at the two men. "He knew before you even left London that the Plateau was real and what was here. He's been helping the Protectors all along."

Challenger scoffed. "Arthur Summerlee? Impossible."

Veronica shook her head. "He admitted it himself. He said it was a farce to spur on the expedition."

Marguerite, having accepted Veronica's tale faster and easier than the others, merely nodded. "I wonder," she said, "what they have in store for us next then."

XXXXXXX

She was the first to excuse herself for bed and he followed discreetly. He slid into the hallway after her so quietly that the others didn't realize he'd left.

He found Marguerite in her bedroom, her back to him as she straightened her bed sheets unnecessarily; they cleaned everything up directly after they returned. His boot creaked as he entered the room, but she must have known he was following because she didn't so much as pause at the sound.

"So, what really happened after you disappeared?"

"Doubting my explanation, John? That's not very gentlemanly of you."

He grinned and waggled his brows at her. "Who ever said I was a gentleman?" Marguerite laughed.

"I told you, I found Finn." She placed a trunk she had initially packed for their journey home further to the side so she could move around more freely. Their essential items had been brought back to the tree house from the damaged balloon, their plans to leave once again thwarted as the end of the mysterious storm had brought with it a shift in the Plateau's winds.

"No, what happened before that? I know there's something you're not telling us." He thought perhaps she could see he wouldn't let it go until he got something. It was the only explanation he could come up with to explain the lack of argument before she answered. A flicker of a smile touched Marguerite's face that might have been called mischievous.

"Well, let's just say that your lineage hasn't changed that much over the years, though your manners have definitely deteriorated."

Roxton's brow crinkled in confusion.

Marguerite's smile widened as she placed a swift, teasing kiss on his chin. His arms automatically wrapped around her waist, holding her there.

"I met that infamous buccaneer ancestor of yours."

"You did?" There was something John hadn't expected. He smirked. "And did he have a stick for a leg?"

She laughed. "No."

"I bet he was as taken with you as I am."

Marguerite nodded, kissing him again at the corner of his mouth. Her distraction from her real trial was working more easily than she expected. "Of course he was. What isn't to like? He even wanted to take me with him on his ship."

Surprise mixed with amusement. Briefly, he wondered if she had seriously considered it. "Did he now? And what did he offer you to go with him, jewels, gold?"

"We didn't get that far."

"Is that why you didn't go?" His eyes twinkled with his teasing, but not as much as Marguerite's, though every other expression suggested she told the truth.

"No, not really." Her expression became completely serious. "We were kissing and -"

"He kissed you?" The humour was abruptly gone from Roxton's expression. The image of Marguerite being kissed by someone other than him revolved in his head. He tried to shake the image, but it kept returning along with the thought that there was indeed a great deal of time not accounted for in Marguerite's story.

"Um-hmm. He was very charming and handsome. Now I know where you get it. You should be flattered, John. Your skills are almost as good as his. I do love familial resemblances."

Roxton's face grew steadily redder. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound escaped. An image of Marguerite in another man's arms - willing or not - continued to revolve in his mind, spurring his jealousy.

Marguerite continued as though she had no idea the affect her tall tale was having on him.

"But then we got to his ship and he took me to his bedroom and the next morning I realized that I couldn't stay because then I'd be your great, great, great grandmother and that would just be awkward for all parties involved. Besides, it would be too embarrassing to claim a rogue like you as my descendant." She finished with a nonchalant wave of her hand, happy to note that Roxton was calming down now that he could tell she was joking. His deathly grip on the back of her shirt eased as he read the naughty light in her eyes.

"I'll have you know no one else has complained about my charms before."

"Then I shudder to think what sort of people you spent time with."

Roxton smiled. "That was cruel."

"I thought it was funny. Really, John, you should learn to laugh at yourself a little. You'll live longer." She reached up to kiss him. Though he scowled a bit, he was never one to turn down an offered kiss and once her lips were on his she seduced until there was no trace of tension left in his larger frame. She smiled up at him. "Better?"

Roxton smiled. "Yes." His smile widened as Marguerite turned away, thinking she had effectively distracted him from his original purpose. "Marguerite?"

"Hmm?" She had begun absently putting away some clothing from one of her trunks.

"What happened that you don't want to tell us about?" Her hands paused for a second, just long enough for John to notice.

"Don't you ever give up?"

"No, I'm probably just as stubbornly single minded as you are. So?"

"Nothing."

"The more you try to keep it from me, the more I'll worry about it."

"Please," she sighed. "John, I just don't want to discuss it."

"And I think you need to. I talked to Finn. Whatever happened has been on your mind since we were separated." He risked her temper, half expecting her to swat at him, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please, tell me."

Marguerite, exhausted and strained from her ordeal, felt her mood grow prickly as Roxton pressed her for information. She worked very hard to resist the initial urge to shout or slap his hand away. It was a close thing, but she managed to keep her temper in check by reminding herself that Roxton didn't mean any harm and that it would be just one more thing to apologise for if she blew up at him.

"Please," John coaxed, encouraged when she only sighed instead of throwing a fit. He slid his fingers down her arm to hold her hand. It was softer than his, though still a bit calloused from the hard work required on the Plateau. Again he braved the possibility of being hurt and raised her hand to his lips for a feathery kiss. "Please, trust me."

"You know I trust you." Charmed, her hot head cooled a bit with his obvious care. Marguerite couldn't help a tiny smile, but she still wasn't ready to talk.

"But not enough to tell me what happened." It was dejected.

"John, I don't want to fight and I do trust you, but I really don't want to discuss it and that's that." She once again turned her back on him to unpack. It was a vain hope that he would allow the subject to die.

"If you trust me, then why won't you tell me?" His hands found her shoulders and turned her around. He held her gaze. "Should I be worried? Maybe you really did spend the night with my ancestor. How will I ever be able to compete with a 16th century buccaneer?" He tried to lighten her mood and was pleased with a chuckle for his efforts.

"There's no competition, John," she said. She meant it and he could tell. Her thumb traced circles on his waist. It was pleasantly distracting.

"No?" It was good to know.

"Not even close. Though he did look just like you."

"Really?"

Marguerite nodded. "If he had your hat, I would have believed he was you."

"Hmm, poor chap." They both chuckled, but Roxton grew serious again. "Please?"

Her eyes refusing to meet his, Marguerite shook her head.

"Please? It hurts me to see you so upset with no idea how to make it right."

"You can't make it right, Roxton. What's done is done and we all survived. That's all that matters."

Roxton grew still and tense, his mind working through her words and drawing up a hundred scenarios, none good.

"Someone hurt you, didn't they?" His hands tightened around her and his voice was more commanding, rough with barely contained anger as his imagination and overtaxed spirits fed him the worst scenarios possible, the only reasons he could think of to make Marguerite's fiery spirit so despondent.

Alarmed by the sudden intensity in John's voice and expression and guessing his assumption, Marguerite hurried to assure him. "Nothing like that, John, I promise. I... I just had a bit of a scare. It was nothing."

Roxton scanned her face and then moved away, unable to look into her wide, concerned eyes when his own emotions were so turbulent.

His sight fell on the dirty, torn shirt she'd been wearing during their little adventure. It lay on a chair next to her dresser, stained red with blood and covered in dirt. A scare. A big scare.

Following his instincts, he moved away from Marguerite and picked up the shirt. She moved to snatch it away from him, her expression alarmed, but Roxton used his height and greater weight to keep it out of her reach while examining it.

"A scare? You call this a bit of a scare? Why didn't you tell anyone?" His voice trembled with renewed anger as he examined the fabric.

He was able to fit his whole hand through the tear and upon closer inspection, he grew more concerned by the amount of dried blood and wondered how no one noticed it before. Then again, he thought wryly, no one could cover things up like Marguerite. He suspected she had manoeuvred her body so that no one would have seen the seriousness of the damage.

"John, it's not as bad as it looks. It was just a tiny cut." She tried to calm Roxton down, placing her hands on his tense arms, but his muscles tightened more.

"Just a cut that you won't talk about."

"It's nothing. Really, John, you're making this into more than it is."

He hesitated then continued with an air of command he had learned from his father and grandfather. It was something he had never used on Marguerite, fearing it would only lead to his murder, but he was willing to try anything now so great was his disturbance and his determination.

"You tell me what happened right now or I'll have a look at that 'tiny cut' of yours myself."

Just as Roxton had expected them to, Marguerite's eyes narrowed. He was thankful she didn't have a gun within reach.

"You wouldn't dare," she said coldly. Unfortunately for her, he would.

Roxton reached for her shirt. He only managed to yank one side of her blouse out from her pants before she leapt away with a yelp.

"Lord Roxton!" she said, her eyes wide.

It was obvious she hadn't expected him to actually try anything, but he wasn't going to let this go and he was going to make her realize that. He did count himself lucky that she hadn't slapped him... yet. His jaw still ached every time he remembered her reaction to finding herself practically naked after their night in the Countess's possessed castle. That her temper was holding was a great testament to the trust she already had for him, trust he was now testing.

"Tell me what happened or I'll get everyone down here to hold you while I or Challenger examine that." He pointed imperiously at her left side, which she now held protectively away from his reach, one hand pressed down in an attempt to dull the flare of pain that accompanied her sudden move to escape him. "And then you'll have to explain it to them as well, not just me."

It was a long moment before either spoke again. They just stood, staring at each other. There was a burning determination in his gaze as he watched her shock turn to angry stubbornness and then to panic when he moved for the door, drawing a great breath as he went.

"All right, all right." She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the door.

"You have to tell me everything," he warned her. "If I get so much as a fib, I'm calling the others down."

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she eventually forced out, "Fine." She marched over to her bed and sat facing away from the door, away from him.

Roxton smiled to himself and casually made his way around to stand in front of her again. His foot rested on the base of her bed as he leaned slightly over her. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he was going to take every advantage he could just to show her he meant business.

She glared at his leg, mere centimetres away from her and Roxton wondered if he were anyone else, would he already be missing that limb?

Though she was loath to reveal the confusing details of her time away from the others, Marguerite recounted her tale with faithful attention to the truth and left little to nothing out besides her meeting Locke. That incident did not need to be spoken of ever again as far as she cared and since that wasn't what caused her injury, she wasn't really leaving enough out to give herself away. Locke was gone and she didn't intend to think of him ever again.

At first she was hesitant and tense, unsure how Roxton would react to her unusual story, but he remained calm, practically impassive besides the occasional glimmers of emotion in his eyes. It made it much easier for Marguerite to simply focus on the story and forget the fear that had practically overcome her in the cave when she believed she was going to die.

By the time she was done, the tightness in her chest eased a bit and she was even grateful when Roxton sat beside her. She leaned into his side and took the moment to enjoy the feel of his arm around her. He was unusually quiet, turning what she had told him over and over in his head.

"You're sure it's not serious?" John asked, his hand reaching as though to touch her ribs where the knife had fallen. His fingers didn't quite touch her, but she could feel the warmth from them just the same through the still painful throbbing.

"I cleaned the wound out when we got back and bandaged it. It's not as bad as it looks," she said again. She understood where his concern came from. Without any medical supplies Marguerite had run around the jungle for a good while with an untreated wound, which opened and flowed every time she exerted herself. Infection had indeed set in, but she was lucky and happy to note that once it was cleaned, the injury would heal and the infection disappear soon enough.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you," John said, his voice strained. "I should have been... I should have been there."

"John, stop it." Marguerite gripped his arm tightly, knowing that if this was how he reacted to her near miss with the Druids, then she would never utter a word about her brief meeting with Locke. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"No, I'm glad you did." It was only a partial lie. On one hand, he wished he had remained ignorant of how close the woman he loved had come to death, how close he came to losing her forever to fate. On the other hand, he was glad to know the source of her distraction.

"Then don't feel like that. You couldn't have done anything different. Besides, I'm fine. Your ancestor, peg-legged pirate or not, saved my life and everything's fine now." Her eyes held his, willing him to listen. "You can't always be there and you're not my nanny. I don't want you to feel guilty." John opened his mouth, but she placed her fingers over his lips. "Ever."

Though his expression was still too pinched for Marguerite's liking, she was gratified when he nodded. He leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead and she dropped her head to rest on his shoulder.

XXXXXXX

Mordren waited in the darkness with some of his newest servants. The underground cavern he used as a base of operations was lit with candles that illuminated the room and gleamed off the long wooden table.

As leader, Mordren sat at the head of the table. Directly on his right was an empty seat, to his left a woman with dark, curly hair. Down past the woman were several men, mostly uncouth and rough in various types of clothing. On the other side were two men and a woman, each dressed in jungle ware, each wiry and fierce.

At the end of the table, as far away from the humans as possible was a small creature barely four feet tall. It was bald with greyish skin and large ears. It sat in its chair like a monkey would, its sharp eyes and even sharper teeth glinting at the wary humans.

The humans - Mordren the only exception - didn't trust the ruler of the Underlings, a race of goblin-like creatures the likes of which haunted children's nightmares. Likewise, the creature didn't trust the humans. It was in his nature to perturb them.

They all waited in silence, no one brave enough to look up at Mordren. He looked down the table at each of them, his hands clasped before him. Each person at the table was important to his purpose. Most had started by serving his father. The creature at the end was the only one who had personally been in the war since its beginning. Underlings possessed immortality so long as they were not killed by an accident or violence.

The woman on his left worked for Mordren's line since birth as had her parents before her and was one he anticipated being his most useful weapon in the coming months... assuming his first plan didn't work. Her grey eyes flickered to him. The fine English silks she liked to wear were perfect and colourful. Some jewels glittered in her ears and around her hands. She smelled of the finest perfumes. Like her daughter, she enjoyed the finer things in life. It was only one of many commonalities Mordren hoped would be of advantage to him.

As some of the men grew impatient and began shifting, the man they'd been waiting for, Francois Locke strode into the room, a smug grin in place. His eyes roved over the other people with some contempt. He smirked at the goblin ruler, who hissed.

"Give me good news," said Mordren. Though Locke's confident stance as he took his seat at Mordren's right hand was encouraging, he knew better than to trust completely to his minions. Locke was particularly difficult to control.

"The seed of doubt has been planted. With a little creativity and a push I think she can be separated from the group within a few months."

"We do not have a few months. We must move quickly if we are to sway the Chosen One in time. I want to leave no room for error."

Locke dipped his head. "She is suspicious by nature and her bond with Lord Roxton," the name was ground out with distaste, "and her other friends is strong. It can't be broken in a day, but I will succeed."

"You will," said Mordren with a nod, "but you will take help with you if she is so difficult. That same suspicion can be used against her. Danielle will see to that."

Locke grimaced. Danielle, down the table with the lower-ranking associates, mirrored Locke's distaste with being paired with the trickster being. "I don't need her pathetic witchcraft. I am more than capable of handling this on my own."

"You may be... with time, but I do not have time and I will not leave things to chance. Danielle will help provide the 'push', as you put it."

Locke frowned, but knew better than to argue in this.

"I also have a new player at your disposal should breaking the Chosen One from the group prove more challenging," continued Mordren. He nodded and one of the men at the end of the table rose to summon someone from an adjoining cavern.

Boots thunked on the rock as the newcomer appeared and Locke inhaled sharply as the man's features were illuminated by the candles.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Mordren with a smile, "I'd like you to meet Captain Roxton."

Roxton looked around, unsettled by the various unsavoury characters. Joining forces with such people was not his first choice, but considering his situation, he had no other options.

"Incredible." Locke grinned. "The resemblance is unbelievable." He was right. Roxton's ancestor was almost identical to his descendant.

"With him and Danielle I expect the job to be done within the month. Am I understood?" Mordren looked pointedly at Locke.

Locke nodded. "Yes, Lord Mordren."

"And the key?" asked the woman on Mordren's left. The diamonds in her ears glinted in the candlelight as she turned her gaze from Locke to Mordren. "Has the descendant of Merlin discovered that yet?"

"I believe so."

"Then it should also be of high priority to us."

"Are you offering to retrieve it?" Mordren asked with a smile.

"If that is your wish," said the woman with a proud lift of her chin.

"As my father before me, I admire your spirit, but I'd prefer to keep you close and safe for now." He looked to the goblin lord. "Which is why I have other alliances of equal value."

The goblin grinned at the compliment and dipped his head. His voice was like a mix of a snake's hiss and growl of a cat. "The will of Lord Mordren is the will of the Underlings."

"Good. Then bring me the key and ensure as many of the Protector's cohorts die as possible."

The End


	2. Proof of Worth

"Marguerite, look out!"

"What?"

A loud crash and the sound of broken glass followed as did some colourful curses.

Roxton paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the commotion before entering. Challenger came down, eagerly escaping the war starting upstairs.

"Better give them a minute, Roxton. That was Abigail Layton's favourite vase." Roxton grimaced and moved so Challenger could pass.

He listened to the argument upstairs, not quite sure if he should interfere or not. It was already getting heated, but he hoped the two women had become good enough friends by now that they wouldn't come to blows.

"Well, I said I was sorry, what more do you want?"

"I told you to be careful."

Marguerite tried to help pick up the scattered bits of glass, but Veronica shooed her away. "If it meant so much to you, why did you leave it lying around? I almost broke my neck."

"That was my mother's."

"As you've said," mumbled Marguerite as she followed Veronica to the waste bin, still trying to make her case with the jungle-bred girl. "Look, I'm really very sorry. I didn't see it and when you shouted, I thought there might be something behind me."

"I don't expect much from you, but you could at least watch where you're going. Or is stealth not something they teach spies?"

Roxton braced for an explosion, but Marguerite held her temper, more hurt by the accusation than angered and stuck to defence for the moment. He almost smiled as he interpreted her tone. She hadn't meant to do it. He could tell from her pleading, defensive and slightly vulnerable voice. Still, Veronica didn't recognize it, or was too angry to care.

"I know you're upset. I said I was sorry and it's not like I did it on purpose."

"Yeah?" Veronica challenged, too blind in her anger to think clearly or concede the fight. "Maybe I think you did do it on purpose."

"Don't be absurd. Besides, it's just a vase."

"It's not like you can understand sentimental value. All you care about are your gems."

There was a deadly quiet in which Marguerite froze and Roxton rushed upstairs, plastering a cheery smile on his face. He took one look at Veronica's flushed face and wide, furious eyes and Marguerite's stunned, hurt expression and grabbed the brunette's arm. It was time to separate them before more things were broken than glass and feelings.

"All right, Marguerite, time to go. You said you'd help me gather those herbs Challenger wanted." Pulling her to the gun rack where their packs sat, he scooped hers up and handed it to her. As though dazed by a blow to the head, she slowly put the bag on and took the rifle he passed her way, not bothering to argue.

Under the still impassioned gaze of Veronica, the two left the tree house.

XXXXXXX

"It has to be around here somewhere," Roxton said, confidence he didn't really feel lending his voice a hint of arrogance. His strides were likewise sure, but if he was honest with himself, he would have had to admit - and that was not going to happen with the woman behind him - that the trail they were supposed to be on simply wasn't there anymore.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Lord Roxton," said Marguerite, rolling her eyes, "but things just aren't where they used to be. Even Challenger said so." In growing irritation, she pushed yet another frond out of her way. There were numerous plants sticking out of her and Roxton's backpacks, the result of a good day gathering medicinal herbs.

Roxton shook his head. "Well, a valley couldn't have moved too far away. We'll find it sooner or later. Have a little faith."

"Faith. Right." She rolled her eyes.

"Even if things are different, at least their stationary." Roxton almost shuddered thinking of the time distortions and shifting locations of places they'd traversed numerous times.

"For now," Marguerite muttered just loud enough for Roxton to hear.

They continued on for a few minutes in silence.

Not paying as much attention to the placement of her feet as to the circular pattern of her thoughts, Marguerite snapped a rather large branch when she tripped on it.

Roxton looked back in annoyance. The sound had startled a large bird similar to an emu he'd had in his sights. If he'd had time it would have made an excellent prize for dinner.

"Sorry," Marguerite mumbled. She moved, expecting him to continue walking, but he didn't. Instead, he stared at her like he had just noticed she had eyebrows. "What?"

"You're not still upset by what Veronica said, are you?"

Marguerite ducked her head, biting her lip. "Don't be silly, John. For her to upset me, I'd have to care and as you well know, I don't have the ability," she said, her voice breaking slightly despite her attempt at a joking tone.

Roxton reached for her, but she turned aside. Crossing her arms, she appeared frosty, but Roxton wasn't deterred. Slinging his rifle over one shoulder, he pulled her stiff body to his and held tight.

She didn't cry, but Roxton felt her muscles tense and quiver as he ran his hand up and down her spine, making him frown. She was upset and deeply hurt. Slowly, as she relaxed into his partial embrace her hands wound around him as well, not holding as tight, but making contact just the same.

"There now," Roxton soothed. "Veronica was just upset about her mother's vase. She didn't mean what she said."

"Oh, yes, she did." Marguerite tried to pull away, but he only let her move far enough that she could look up into his face without hitting her head on his chin. "It's not the first time she's said as much. I can't say I blame her, but..."

"But what?"

"Nothing. We should get going." Again she tried to pull away, but Roxton held on.

"Oh, no you don't. You're going to tell me what's on your mind. I can't have you stumbling through the jungle, scaring everything away."

"I just thought... that she would trust me a bit more." She sighed deeply. "When Malone was in the spirit world, I tried -" Her eyes flicked up to his and away again. "I told her that I've lost a lot of people too and I knew how she felt."

"And?" But he thought he could guess. He knew what it would have cost her to admit such a simple thing to Veronica.

"She didn't believe me."

"Is that why you were so determined to help contact Malone?" he asked, thinking of how she'd inexplicably put herself in harm's way to bring him back from the spirit world.

She shrugged. "It helped. I can't say I deserve any better, but..." She looked at him, hoping he understood. "I might not have had a family, but I understand sentimental value."

As she gave a sniffle, Roxton hugged her close once more. So that's why, he thought. Marguerite was very sensitive about her past, particularly her lack of family. Veronica may have lashed out, more disappointed about the loss of the memento than anything, but he was certain she hadn't meant it.

When Marguerite was in control of herself again, Roxton tilted her chin up with a gentle hand. "I know you care. Even when you pretend you don't, I know you do and so does Veronica. She just needs to cool off."

Marguerite smiled and at once grew embarrassed. Roxton released her, knowing it was time before she withdrew completely.

"Enough melodrama," she said with a forced laugh. "I feel like I'm four again."

His heart gave a twinge at the implications of that, but he smiled and led them on.

They continued on for another hour, still lost.

Marguerite cursed, her shirt caught on a thorn.

Fighting both his own frustration as well as a smile at Marguerite's less than ladylike language, Roxton gave in with a sigh. There was no fighting the inevitable. As he helped Marguerite get free of the grabby vine, he decided to give up their endeavour and instead do something he knew would cheer them both.

"If you can wait another hour, we can at least make it to the Washington River -"

"Ned should never pick names."

"- and cool off," he continued, brushing a bunch of her hair over her shoulder once her shirt was released. Her pupils widened just a bit and her lips pulled up lightly as though she couldn't help it. Roxton leaned forward, feeling his excitement grow as she reached for him. He could hear her quicker breathing and see a flush grow in her cheeks.

Marguerite's hand automatically went around John's neck as he finally closed the gap between them. He groaned as she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss and she marvelled at his reactions to her. She hugged him tighter, feeling a lightness in herself that she couldn't remember having felt since she was young. The morning's disturbance was forgotten in the moment.

She had to push him away several minutes later, laughing as he tried to capture her lips again. Chuckling himself, he ignored her hand on his chest and leaned in again. He liked the girlish laughter his enthusiasm elicited from her, the knowledge that she enjoyed his efforts and his passion.

"Roxton!" The attempt at chastisement was ruined by her giggles when he gave up trying to get her lips and instead tickled her neck. His stubble scratched a bit. He hadn't shaved in a few days, their heavy workload preventing some of the nicer habits, and he was getting scraggly. "We need to get moving if we're going to get back today."

"All right." Sighing, Roxton allowed her to push him back. Straightening his hat with a grin, he led the way through the jungle once more, his steps considerably lighter.

The river was more or less where it had been before the storm, but Roxton couldn't help feeling that it wasn't quite right. He was certain the large rock in the middle of the steady current and the bend downstream had been closer to the break in the trees where a grassy bank soaked up the sunny rays. He mentioned it to Marguerite, but she was just glad for the opportunity to splash about and didn't care if a few small characteristics had changed.

XXX

"So, how long do you think Marguerite and Roxton will be?" Finn asked as she and Veronica dutifully dusted and straightened the tree house as best they could.

Things were rather messy, the occupants having the need to mend and rebuild several items necessary to their comfort and safety. At the top of the list was the windmill and several holes in the roof that had been discovered during a quick downpour. Their supplies needed to be restocked, but several containers were broken and needed replacing as well. As a result, there were piles of canvass, twine, broken jars, new clay pots, and ingredients for food preservation everywhere and most of it of no use until more supplies had been gathered. So, they had to wait and clean around the mess.

Veronica smirked, her anger from the morning abated, imagining Roxton having to cajole the temperamental heiress into more time in the wild should they be unable to obtain all the items on their list. "I wouldn't expect them back before dark."

"Good."

"Why?"

Finn answered as she balanced on a chair, reaching over to clean a tribal mask hanging on the wall. "It's Marguerite's turn to cook and I'm too hungry to pick at burned raptor."

Veronica laughed. "Agreed. Though she has been getting better... just as long as she doesn't try doing more than one thing at a time her meals have been passable."

"Still, I'd rather try something myself."

"What did you have in mind?" Veronica made her way to the bookshelf and began pulling books out one at a time to wipe the grime from their covers.

Finn opened her mouth to reply, but a shout and loud crash interrupted. The two women dropped their cleaning supplies and ran downstairs to the laboratory where the commotion had come from.

They found Challenger backed into a corner of the lab, confronting a small ghoulish creature. It was no taller than a child, but its muscles were well developed like an adult man's. They were sinewy and tough even under the creature's leathery skin. Hissing and spitting, the creature advanced on Challenger like a rabid raccoon. It's slit-like eyes glared at the humans with loathing.

Upon seeing the strange little creature both Finn and Veronica cried out in alarm as well, coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway. They'd never seen such a thing. Though they had no name for it, one familiar with folklore might have called it a goblin or something like to it. Had it been able or willing to explain, it would have identified itself as a member of the Underlings, a minion of Mordren.

Noticing the two women, Challenger flung a heavy book at the animal and tried to make it to the door, but it leapt at him, its claws grabbing at his arms. Hollering in alarm, Challenger retreated again, holding his arms at his face and chest.

The attack spurred Finn and Veronica to action. Veronica drew a knife from her boot and advanced on the creature as Finn grabbed a pair of heavy gloves from a bench and slipped them on. They circled onto either side of the attacker and grabbed onto it.

Having no choice but to let go of Challenger if it wished to avoid death, the goblin turned to scratch at Veronica, who took a step back. With a grating screech and chattering like an unhappy animal, the goblin evaded their hands and scuttled across the floor on its clawed hands and feet. It disappeared too quickly to be stopped, but it could be heard clambering off the balcony and into the neighbouring trees.

Breathing hard and utterly stunned, the three humans gaped at each other, unsure what to say. Finally, Finn broke the silence.

"What the hell was that?"

Veronica shrugged and turned to Challenger. "What happened? How did it get in?"

"I was feeding my specimens when that thing came at me from the window." He looked down at a jar he held that the women hadn't noticed at first. "I'm not sure, but it seemed to want my beetle."

Veronica raised a brow incredulously, but Finn stepped forward, looking at the jar and cocoon with renewed interest. "Is that the one you named Arthur?"

Challenger nodded. "That... thing tried to pull it from my hands. Though Arthur is an interesting specimen, I can't imagine what that creature could want with him."

"Maybe he thought Arthur would taste good," said Finn. Challenger and Veronica turned to her, brows raised. "What?"

XXXXXXX

Marguerite lay in her undergarments on the grass, her head in her folded arms and face tucked into the crook of her elbow. Her shirt and skirt hung on a branch a few feet away along with Roxton's shirt and guns. She was nice and warm, the drying river water keeping her just the right temperature. The muscles in her back contracted a bit as rougher, warmer skin ran lightly over the parts of her that were exposed.

"You don't want to burn," said John, his voice a soft murmur. Marguerite didn't answer, but turned her face to him, her expression mild and even content. His hand pressed a bit more firmly, making her smile.

She moved, reaching for him and he met her eagerly. He was surprised, but far from displeased when she pulled him, one arm around his neck and her other hand at his waist, to cover her body. It excited him unbearably to feel her beneath him, her lips and hands as passionate as his own.

He'd never wanted a woman more in his life, but this wasn't just any woman and this situation couldn't end the way he desperately wanted it to. His body urged him to take the opportunity and make love to her, but he knew her to be as skittish as a farm cat. If he was too quick, too eager and didn't watch her, then the end result could be exactly opposite to what he wanted, and he knew now with absolute clarity and certainty what it was he wanted. No, he couldn't make love to her.

He had to ask her something first.

Marguerite made a noise of protest as Roxton sat back, but he leaned away when she tried to pull him down. "What is it?"

"Marguerite, I..."

"Yes?"

Why couldn't he just say it? He had thought of this moment off and on for a good while now, but with the moment finally before him, the words stuck in his throat. Perhaps it was that he'd spent the vast majority as a stubborn bachelor and assumed he'd always be so. Perhaps he feared her answer and did not want to ruin the moment.

"What is it, John?"

"I..." He noticed something at the corner of his vision. "I think we need to leave."

She followed his gaze and hurried to gather their clothing, the sight of strangers moving through the trees on the opposite bank urging her to be both silent and fast. She tossed Roxton his shirt and in no time they had gathered their supplies and were making a hasty retreat.

They were much deeper into the jungle when Roxton's hand on her arm pulled her to a stop. He put his fingers to his lips, asking for silence. She nodded and they crouched down behind some shrubs, waiting for any sign that they had been followed.

Several grimy men appeared, their heads bent low as they read the trail.

Roxton pushed her along and they half ran, half crawled among the thick foliage, trying not to get caught on branches.

One of the men gave a shout and Marguerite felt a harder shove from behind as Roxton hollered for her to run. She did as she was told, but glanced back to make sure he was following. They didn't get very far.

Marguerite struggled to breathe as she hit first one solid object and then the ground, her head smacking a stone. Something hard and blunt came down on her side, catching her ribs before she could move out of the way. The man she'd run into raised his club to strike her again and she was in too much pain to get out of the way.

She cringed, expecting to feel something snap and blood to flow this time, but Roxton had caught up and sent her attacker to the ground with a tackle.

The two wrestled for a moment and though Roxton got the upper hand, he had to stop and give up the fight when the rest of the group surrounded Marguerite. One of them held a knife to her neck for emphasis.

It only took him a glance, though he gave her more than one, to tell that there was no way for her to fight out of this even if he could get between her and the knife. Her eyes were watering and unfocussed and her breathing laboured. A bit of blood smeared the side of her frightened face.

Minutes later, Roxton and Marguerite were bound with rope, herded by a slaver both in front and behind, and shoved back the way they'd come. Their packs and weapons were carried by their attackers.

Roxton attempted to get closer to Marguerite, but the men surrounding him refused to let him, rapping him sharply on the head or shoulders when he tried to speak to her. She seemed in too much pain to give them her usual lip, which worried Roxton more than anything. He'd seen her fall and he hoped she didn't have a concussion or internal bleeding.

Marguerite herself was certain of what was wrong with her. The only problem now was how she was going to get out of their predicament with a cracked rib and severely bruised skull. Her every step was agony, making it hard to breathe let alone argue with the stronger men. It was a bruise to her ego to let them touch and push her around, but she knew she'd have to endure it for now. When she had her strength back and could manage more than just a few indignant hisses, she'd show them who they were messing with.

She could hear Roxton struggling with his own guards every now and then and she fought the urge to look back at him.

The slavers allowed a rest midway through the day, letting their trophies sip water and sit for a moment. Roxton took the opportunity to speak to Marguerite, who looked paler than usual.

"Are you all right?"

Marguerite nodded, but regretted it instantly. Her sore head had grown into an epic headache and even that slight movement - or maybe it was her breathing - caused her ribs to burst into fresh pain. It was like having a knife stabbed into her side, but she refused to let the extent of her injuries show. It would only worry Roxton and expose weakness to their captors.

"Listen, I think we can get out of this. They obviously don't know this area as well as we do -"

"Did, Roxton," she said irritably, "as well as we did. Things have changed, remember?"

"Anyway, I think I can take the one with our weapons if you get our packs and -"

"I can't, Roxton," said Marguerite. Tears rose, though she refused to let them fall. They were traitorous tears she couldn't repress anymore with the combined effect of her pain, and the knowledge that he could run and there was no way she could. This was a conversation she'd been dreading.

"Of course you can." He placed his tied hands on her knee, encouraging her to meet his concerned gaze. "We'll make a break for it once we're moving again."

"No, John, I can't." She met his gaze and confessed. "I have at least one cracked rib and my head feels ready to split open. I can barely breathe. Even if we do get away, I can't run." She took a steadying breath and forced herself to say what she both wanted and dreaded. "I think you'll have to go without me."

Roxton smiled, thinking her silly if she believed he'd leave her behind. He squeezed her knee. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You should," she said. "You can make it easily. Besides, I'm more valuable if they plan on selling us. You're not." It was the law of slavery from day one. Women were always more valuable.

"I don't know. I think I'm pretty useful." Marguerite didn't smile and Roxton's faded as he sighed. "I won't let us be separated, Marguerite, I promise."

"You can't prevent it if that's what they want. John," she leaned forward, clasping his hands, "you can go further and faster than I can even on a good day. Get away and get help if you have to, but... please don't ask me to watch you suffer on my account."

At first, Roxton didn't know what to say, which he knew had been her intention. Marguerite didn't blurt things out by accident, especially what amounted to an expression of love. She wasn't just suggesting he leave her behind. She wanted him to.

"And if you care anything for me or believe me at all capable of honour," he murmured, "you won't ask me to leave you."

Marguerite's eyes widened and a watery smile was his reward for loyalty. Obeying an impulse, she pressed her lips to his, for once heedless of their audience. She knew it was a dangerous move when captured by people who would be looking for leverage against them, but she didn't care enough to stop and neither did John.

Their moment was broken rather rudely by one of the slavers.

"Get up, you," said the man. He used a thick staff he carried as his weapon of choice to prod Marguerite, making her cringe and go even paler. He smiled in enjoyment, perhaps sensing her weakness and choosing the moment to pick on her like the ruffian he was.

He didn't miss the dark glare coming from Roxton. He laughed as he bullied them to their feet and into moving again.

In another few hours the sound of a large river made Roxton concerned. Marguerite couldn't swim in her condition. He needn't have worried about swimming.

A boat large enough for twelve men and supplies waited for them and Roxton's heart sunk further. Ahead of him, Marguerite's shoulders slumped. They couldn't expect help from their friends if there was no trail to follow.

They climbed into the boat, Roxton keeping his peace only for Marguerite's sake.

The slavers didn't take up the oars but let the boat drift with the river's flow, only correcting their course if they drew too close to the riverbank or a bit of driftwood. Night had fallen and still they drifted down the river.

The slavers pointed at various landmarks on the riverbank every now and again, seeming to be noting changes in the landscape. One of the men held a map and made small notations on it as they went. They must have been going in the right direction despite the upheaval on the Plateau for the slavers kept their course and were unconcerned.

Though they remained tied, Roxton felt a small measure of appeasement in being able to sit next to Marguerite, their backs against the warm wood. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, taking and giving comfort with the small gesture. They fell asleep eventually, both too worn out by the day's events to keep their eyes open another moment.

Marguerite woke with a jolt - causing her to gasp in sudden pain - then realized that the movement was actually the boat hitting the shore. Roxton jumped as well, bumping into her. She stifled her reaction to his movement, pretending to look around. He wasn't fooled, but all he could do was rub her hand in comfort.

They had arrived at the slaver's village.

Their landing was a semi-permanent settlement with shelters built of animal hides and large wooden posts. There were fires and baskets of food and tools, a makeshift smithy, and two cages filled already with a woeful group of people. They were separated into men and women, amounting to sixteen with five women and eleven men.

It appeared that theirs was the last shipment that the village had been waiting for.

As soon as they docked, Marguerite and Roxton were hauled out and all the captured were lined up and tied together with the men in front and the women bringing up the rear. They were then led out of the camp and deep into the jungle where the foliage was too thick to see through, following a path already cut and deeply worn.

Being closer to the front of the group by chance, Roxton saw their destination first and couldn't help looking back in concern. As Marguerite drew close enough to see as well, her eyes grew wide and her lips pressed into a thin line.

A hill rose unnaturally from the jungle, the sides steep and covered in dirt and leaves with a small entrance like a mineshaft just below the point where the trees blocked the rest of the hill from sight.

Roxton paused, thinking there was something strange about the hill. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it just didn't look right.

"A pyramid." Once she got close enough, Marguerite recognized the symmetrical sides. She wondered what slavers wanted with a pyramid and who had built it in the first place.

Reasoning that they probably expected to find treasure inside, she tried to concentrate on her footing as they were led up the ragged slope to the entrance.

The inside was dark even with the oil lamps the slavers had placed inside for themselves. It was an unnatural darkness, seeming to absorb both light, sound, and warmth. The heat of the jungle dropped away as soon as they entered the stone structure, leaving them shivering and chilled right to the bone.

One of the younger women ahead of Marguerite panicked at the cloying darkness and tried to back up. She ran into Marguerite, making her grunt in discomfort. Tied together as they were, the girl had nowhere to go but forward and a slaver pushed to make her do just that.

Marguerite tried to stay calm through her pain and unease. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and she had a strong urge to run. Even if the inside were stuffed full of gold and diamonds, she would be unlikely to stay to collect it so strong was the urge to leave.

They passed numerous groups of working slaves, piles of rubble, tools, and even a collection of explosives obviously stolen or bartered from a group of more advancement than the simple brutes leading the ragged collection of slaves. Whatever they were after, the slavers were well stocked with whatever they could need to get it. And they were determined to get it.

The captives were set to work in the deepest bowels of the pyramid, chained together and given digging tools to chip away at the grime left by time. Centuries had passed since anyone else set foot in the ancient tomb and the years had not been kind. Dirt and limestone deposits caked and sealed every inch of the structure, making their task like digging through concrete.

By some subtle manipulation on Roxton's part, he and Marguerite ended up working close to each other. They made up a team where he used the larger tools like the pickaxe and heavier shovel she couldn't lift while she used the smaller tools to chip away at stubborn grime clinging to delicate mosaics and carvings. It was a hard day.

Night crept upon the slaves, their only way of knowing time being through the actions of their guards. Even though they were cold with drying sweat and tired, they were not allowed to leave their work but were expected to sleep at their station. During the meal breaks, they were taken outside to relieve themselves, but otherwise they remained chained together.

"Any bright ideas, Roxton?" Marguerite asked as they leaned together that night. The tunnel where they had ended their day was long and it echoed, but it was safe to talk as they weren't the only ones doing so.

Roxton looked up and down the tunnel, but felt only frustration. No insights had come to him and as far as he could see, they were stuck there until reinforcements could help. He said so.

"And how is anyone going to find us here?" She tilted her head to look at him. The muscle in his jaw flexed. He'd been thinking much the same thing.

"We'll be all right." His arm curled around her shoulders a little tighter as he said it.

Marguerite didn't answer, just cuddled closer for warmth and closed her eyes. At least there weren't any druids there.

XXXXXXX

When their two friends had not returned on time, there had been some concern, but enough excuses made to put off a search until the next day. When light came and then noon and still Roxton and Marguerite didn't appear, Veronica and Finn determined that they should go to find them.

Though they'd not seen or heard anything more of their unusual visitor, the women were still loath to leave Challenger alone in the tree house. The goblin had gotten inside with ease once before and there was no reason to believe it wouldn't do it again with the right opportunity. Though not large, the creature was more than able to do a great deal of damage and should it attack while he slept or had his back turned...

Challenger felt more threatened by the small creature than he would let on, but insisted on having one person stay behind to protect the tree house and believed it only logical that it should be him. Neither of the women disagreed with him on that count, but they tried to persuade him to at least lessen the danger to himself.

What exactly the goblin's motives were eluded them, but it had seemed so determined to get at Challenger's pet beetle that they didn't doubt that was the object of its interest.

"At least give us Arthur so that if that thing does return, you won't have to fight with it," said Veronica.

"You can't carry an extra jar around with you," said Challenger as he watched the women pack for their search. Uncertain what condition Marguerite and Roxton might be in, they were carrying a generous supply of bandages and medicines.

Finn smiled, watching Challenger absently grip Arthur's jar tighter. It hadn't left his hands since the attack and though she didn't understand his affection for the beetle, she was touched by it. Growing up in the time and place she had, it was very strange to see such goodness in a man. It was partly why she liked him so. He was such an oddity, like a slightly embarrassing father she couldn't help loving.

Veronica sighed impatiently and took the jar from Challenger before he could argue. Tucking it away in her bag, she reassured him. "We'll take good care of your beetle, George. I promise."

It would be many days of arduous searching for the two women and lonely days for Challenger.

XXXXXXX

The next day went by much as the first but with a lot more time spent digging.

"You know," said Roxton, breathing hard as he leaned against a shovel while he waited for Marguerite to finish with her chisel and clear away the soil from a mosaic, "I wonder how long they've been at this."

Marguerite shrugged. "Probably about a year judging by the work they've done."

"Nine," said a gravelly woman's voice from behind Roxton. Her accent was thick, but understandable. He turned to her, his brows raised. "My son and I were captured three years ago, but there are some from when they started."

"This is a lot of effort to put into a project. What are they looking for?" asked Roxton. He took a good look at the sturdy, mature woman as she spoke, finding he liked her immediately.

She was matronly, her weather-worn skin only slightly dulled, reminding him of some Polynesian women he'd seen in his travels. Besides a few crinkles around her eyes and mouth, she was still beautiful and in remarkable physical shape, strong muscle rounding out her solid bone structure. Her dark eyes were warm and strong, the wisdom of her age enlightening the shine instead of dulling it. Her black, curly hair was streaked with a few bits of grey and a tribal tattoo twirled from her shoulder blade to her elbow.

"A treasure," said the woman, "but I don't know what. They become excited when we find writing or pictures." She nodded to Marguerite, who had paused to listen. "That is why they give us small tools and tell us to be careful cleaning the walls."

"Hmm," said Marguerite, turning back to work, "slavers turned to treasure hunters. They're not doing a very good job if it's taken nine years and they still haven't found anything."

"I think they search for something - for one thing." The woman raised her pickaxe and brought it down on the cement-like clay. A bunch crumbled and fell away. She did it again, listening with half an ear as the newcomers chatted.

"If the circumstances were different, I'd wish Veronica was here to see this place," said Marguerite.

The woman with the tattoo hesitated in her work when she heard Veronica's name, but neither Marguerite nor Roxton noticed.

"Oh, why is that?" asked Roxton, rather enjoying watching her work on the mosaic of cut jade and onyx. Though it was being forced upon them, this was the sort of task she enjoyed and it was a side to her that he rarely got to see: the scholar and history enthusiast.

"Veronica could sketch and paint these murals so they wouldn't be lost," she said, her voice turning wistful. "They're beautiful."

"That they are." He smiled widely.

"Veronica's a Protector, you'd think she could protect a few priceless bits of artwork."

"It's amazing they've lasted this long with all this muck covering them," Roxton agreed, "but is your interest academic or mercenary?"

Marguerite smiled crookedly at him. "Is there a difference?"

Still listening to them and pretending not to, the woman with the tattoo felt her breathing speed as she realized these two knew Tom and Abigail Layton's daughter. It was an incredible coincidence, one she wasn't willing to trust right away.

She would wait and watch them before she decided to reveal her connection with the family.

XXXXXXX

Two more days passed with the same schedule and the same compatriots. It was dull and tedious work, the kind that would kill the spirit and body long before nature intended.

As the tunnel Roxton, Marguerite and the tattooed woman, whose name they discovered was Kai, were working in narrowed, workers were removed for other areas and even the guards let them alone. There was only one way out so they only needed to bother checking on the trio every few hours. This was a lucky thing for the woman, Kai, had significant medical knowledge.

Kai and Roxton were waiting for Marguerite to finish chipping away at some newly exposed rock when sharp eyes noticed the way the brunette favoured her side.

"You are still injured," said Kai.

"Yes." It was sharp and dismissive. Roxton's lips twitched, knowing how Marguerite hated to show weakness.

"Your ribs?"

"Yes." She nearly growled, but Kai didn't seem to notice.

"I have a poultice. It can help with the pain."

Smiling in earnest now at Kai, Marguerite nodded. "Thank you."

"Come here then," she said, taking a pouch from her side. She gestured to Roxton, who handed the canteen with their daily water ration over. Kai poured a bit of powdered herbs from the pouch into her palm and then some water. She rubbed her hands together to thoroughly soak the herbs.

"What is that?" Roxton asked, watching with interest. A heavy earthy smell with a sharper undertone similar to eucalyptus reached his nose and he came closer. It was a pleasant, clean scent.

"A herb my people harvest from high in the mountains."

"Will that actually work?"

"Remove your shirt," Kai said to Marguerite, ignoring Roxton's slightly insulting question.

Roxton grinned, suddenly very enthusiastic to watch Kai's treatment.

"Turn around, Lord Roxton." Marguerite arched a brow at him when he didn't immediately do as commanded.

"Oh, come now, Marguerite, there's no call to be shy."

Kai looked between them, confused. "Why do you not allow your mate to help?"

"Mate?"

Roxton laughed, unintimidated by the glare Marguerite sent his way.

"Yes, why can't I help?" His voice contained just a bit too much heat for Marguerite to laugh it off. His grin spread as a blush crept up her cheeks. "I can help her rub that on you or hold your hair out of the way."

"Don't you even think about it, Lord Roxton. Turn around." She turned to Kai. "We aren't mates."

Marguerite levelled a glare at him and though he would have liked to tease her a bit more, he decided that when she was tired and in pain probably wasn't the best time for it. He'd likely pay for it tenfold later.

Kai shrugged, thinking it odd considering the care she'd seen between them. "You seem to be joined."

"He wishes," said Marguerite as she kept one eye on Roxton's turned back and one on what she was doing. She trusted him, but she didn't trust him not to try to peek at the extent of her injuries and accidentally see something more. A fond smile touched her lips. He did worry so.

Roxton sighed, but kept his mouth shut. Yes, I do wish, he thought.

Marguerite moaned as the poultice made contact with her blackened skin. A warmth that both dulled the pain and eased her muscles spread through her entire side as the herbs were lathered on. She didn't even mind having gooey green stuff rubbed on her.

At her moan, Roxton did manage to sneak a look over his shoulder. He stiffened, frowning to himself at the sight of her entire rib cage black and blue with bruises. If he ever got the chance, he'd repay the favour to the man who did it.

Kai wiped the last of the medicine onto Marguerite and then allowed her to put on her undergarment and shirt. She didn't understand the need for such elaborate clothing, but she had to admit that the constrictive underclothes would help the fair-skinned woman's ribs from getting much worse.

Kai watched Roxton watch Marguerite and she couldn't help but smile and shake her head. The two were a strange set to be so bound and yet not be formally joined.

One of their guards stuck his head inside the tunnel and the three reluctantly got back to work.

"No rest for the weary," said Roxton with a laugh. He took up his pickaxe and brought it down with every bit of force he had.

The clay and dried mud crumbled, revealing an almost perfectly preserved wall covered in stylized pictographs. Despite their age, the drawings were still vibrantly colourful and detailed. Every inch of the wall had something on it and with the unique artistic flair, it was rather much to take in. In some places it was hard to tell where one figure started and another began.

Roxton drew back, astounded at the discovery as Marguerite kneeled in front of it.

"We should call the guards," said Kai, her eyes wide at the beautiful sight.

"We should do no such thing," said Marguerite sharply.

"What is it?" Roxton asked, noting how intrigued the linguist appeared to be. Even though she was being used as slave labour to unearth an ancient pyramid, he recognized the glint of interest in her eye. It was the same look Challenger got when he thought of a new project.

"It's Mayan. Oh," she sighed, "it's exquisite."

"And do you want to tell me why we're keeping it a secret?" he asked, Kai nodding beside him.

Marguerite ran a finger along the artwork reverently as she murmured to herself, translating. The further she went, the more engrossed she became, even stiffening visibly as though she'd read something of incredible importance.

"Marguerite?" Roxton had noticed her reaction. Her expression reminded him of when she was reading the iron band used to seal a demon inside a clay jar. Whatever she was reading, it was clearly of concern.

"We can't let them see it," she said, standing. "We can't let anyone see it."

"Why? What's wrong?"

Marguerite took the pickaxe from him and before he or Kai could stop her, she'd swung the tool and began to smash the mural to pieces. It was done in a surprisingly short amount of time and Roxton had to wonder just how potent Kai's medicine was.

Roxton pulled the axe from her hands, but it was too late. The design was already broken into chunks.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Roxton was incensed partly because it unnerved him to see her act in such a way with no explanation, partly because he wondered if she hadn't just destroyed a good bargaining chip, but mostly because he worried she might have hurt herself further with the exertions.

"Was that what they're after?" Kai asked.

Marguerite ignored Roxton's red, angered face, and nodded to Kai. "It was a prophecy." She turned to Roxton. "It's a bit much to explain right now, but trust me on this, John. What they're looking for should never fall into their hands."

"It's not just treasure, is it?"

She shook her head, her eyes darting once to Kai, wary of revealing too much in this unknown entity's presence. Sure the woman had helped ease her pain, but she was still a stranger, her motives unclear. "It's the Trion." Roxton gasped.

"That's good enough for me." Marguerite blinked, surprised he'd take her word so easily. Roxton looked around to make sure they were perfectly alone then picked up the axe and ensured that the writing became nothing more than dust.

Kai watched them both as they destroyed all evidence of the wall, her dark eyes assessing Marguerite in particular. She didn't know what to make of the woman. The man was easy enough to read. He was good, perhaps faulted and stubborn as all men are, but good nonetheless. Marguerite was a bit harder to judge. She had not shown any undesirable traits in Kai's presence, but there was something the wise woman couldn't understand as of yet.

"Are you going to search for this Trion?" Kai asked, her voice quiet.

Roxton looked quickly at Marguerite, whose brows rose in surprise and she shook her head.

"Actually," he said, "it's already been found."

Kai nodded and seemed to let the matter go.

Roxton shrugged at Marguerite, both of them confused by Kai's lack of questioning and entered the continuation of the tunnel that the destruction of the wall had exposed. It was narrow, but relatively clear of the muck that had clogged up the rest of the pyramid. There was not a hint of light, making it impossible to see more than a foot inside.

Marguerite took one of the lamps from a hook and held it aloft for Roxton as he entered the tunnel.

He hadn't taken more than three steps inside when his heel lowered on a precisely cut bit of stone, triggering something that had been set up many years ago.

Kai's eyes widened and Marguerite cried out as Roxton disappeared, his body seeming to fall right through the floor. They rushed over and Marguerite held the lamp over the uncovered trap door he'd fallen through.

Her mind whirling with horrible possibilities of what she would see and remembering the death she'd barely missed the last time she fell into a hole in a tomb, Marguerite called Roxton's name. Her voice echoed a long way with no answer and she feared the fall had been his death.

"We'll need a rope," said Kai. She hurried back down the tunnel, but walked once she entered the main chamber. Grabbing up a length of rope - the guards and other slaves paid her no attention - she pretended nonchalance until back at Marguerite's side.

"John, if you can hear me, we have some rope and I'm coming down."

Kai tied the rope to a large boulder they hadn't yet moved and helped Marguerite over the edge to climb down.

The hole was dark and musty, but Marguerite didn't care. It wasn't particularly deep, but deep enough to cause damage.

She finally made it to the bottom and there he was, crumpled on the ground in a heap. She rushed to him, wanting to cradle him in her arms and yet fearing to hurt him further. Instead, she called his name several times and ran her hands over his body, checking for injury. There didn't appear to be any broken bones, but she was terrified by the way he lay still, unmoving on the hard ground.

Finally, as she said his name a fourth time and shook his shoulder gently, he gave a groan and woke.

"Oh, thank God," she sighed, leaning against him in her relief. "John, how do you feel?"

Roxton looked upwards, his eyes having a difficult time focussing in the dark. "Better than I probably should considering the fall." He put a hand to his head. There was no blood and he felt mostly all right, but a large bump was already rising.

Marguerite nodded, relieved then looked up, raising her voice to let Kai know. "He's all right."

"Can he climb up?" Kai called down.

"I - Roxton, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Marguerite demanded.

Roxton had stood and taken her lamp to explore the place he'd landed. It wasn't just a hole but a connection to another passageway. Was it a way out or just another tunnel deeper into the bowels of the pyramid? There was only one way to find out.

Roxton gestured down the tunnel. "I want to know where this leads," he said. He heard Marguerite sigh and stand to follow him.

"There's something here," Marguerite shouted up to Kai. "We'll be right back."

Roxton stooped a little with his larger frame as they made their way down the tunnel. Marguerite moved easily, only stumbling a little over uneven rock.

They heard a roaring the further they went, a sound that grew louder and more familiar. Rounding a bend, a muted light appeared as well.

"Are we behind a waterfall?" Marguerite asked, peering around Roxton's shoulder.

"It must have been an alternate exit for the people who built this place," said Roxton. Looking to the side of the falling water, Roxton could see a pathway leading down and around the stream.

"We have to see where it goes," said Roxton, but Marguerite shook her head.

"Without any supplies? What if it ends up at the bottom of a gorge and we can't get out? We'll need something to eat and drink if we end up in the middle of nowhere and we'll need to get our weapons back. We can't just go wandering around without guns or at least a knife."

Roxton sighed, but nodded. She was right. They needed water in the very least and his canteen was back at their dig site.

They returned to the rope, climbed back up, and relayed to Kai what they'd found. She was excited as well, but more wary about leaving.

"I can't leave my son behind and what of the people here? They're as much my friends as you are, all taken from their families as well. We can't just leave them."

Roxton nodded at once, but a sideways glance at Marguerite and he realized she was horribly upset about something. He worried she would vent her spleen and insult Kai, but she only pointed out that it would be difficult.

"Well, what can we do? They have guards all over the place and they have weapons and we don't."

Roxton nodded. "We need to organize something. There's too many of us to sneak away and it's too dangerous to take on the guards."

"So what do you propose?"

"I have an idea," said Kai suddenly. "If I can find what I need, I can make a drink to put the guards to sleep. We can all escape."

"Fine," said Marguerite, "but everyone will have to be ready and on time. I'm not spending the rest of my life as a slave because some idiot falls behind."

Kai nodded. "I'll make sure they know."

"All right, that's it then," said Roxton. "You take the canteen and some of my rations for today. We'll cover for you until you get back."

Kai took the offered supplies and climbed quickly down the rope with the lamp. When she had disappeared from view, Roxton pulled the rope up, coiled it and tucked it beneath some rubble they hadn't yet cleared away. He then took a slab of rock they'd cut and with Marguerite's help, slid it over the hole.

"All right," said Roxton, turning to Marguerite. "What's wrong?"

"Do you really think she's going to come back? We don't know if she really has a son."

Roxton relaxed, realizing her concern stemmed from old habits and fears, not anything new. She feared betrayal and rightly so.

"I trust her," he said. "She has... conviction. Besides, she helped you when she didn't have to."

Marguerite wasn't particularly pleased by this explanation, but she had no reason to argue.

"Come on, Marguerite, remember our old friend the inspector from Scotland Yard?"

"You're never going to let me forget that are you?" Marguerite grumbled.

"No," said Roxton with a laugh, "you said you'd trust my judgement after that. Have a little faith."

Marguerite sighed and gave him a kiss. "I do trust you, Roxton."

Kai did return and within only a few hours. She quickly crushed and mixed several plants, only one of which either Roxton or Marguerite recognized. It was chamomile.

Having been there longer, Kai was more trusted and she immediately set about spreading the word amongst the workers that they would soon be escaping.

One of the slaves was a captured adolescent boy. He was rather scrawny and useless for hard labour. Instead, he was used to cart water in to the rest of the slaves as well as the guards.

It was his duty to ensure the tainted water made it to the guards only.

Roxton was careful to keep it from Marguerite that the fate of their plan rested on the shoulders of a child, but he should have known better than to try. Marguerite had already met and assessed the boy, finding confidence in his meek, but steady nature. Though she would not admit it out loud, he reminded her of someone she'd met long ago in her own childhood.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, all was ready.

They watched and waited until the guards fell asleep or became close enough to unconsciousness that a sharp knock on the head disposed of them. After years of abuse, the slaves forgave themselves for taking the extra precaution of slitting their captors' throats.

The slaves rushed down to the tunnel where Marguerite and Roxton had retied the rope.

Kai went down first and lit the lamps as she led the line of fugitives out to the waterfall. About fifty people in all made their way out, their steps and eyes lightened by the prospect of finally leaving.

Once everyone else was on their way, Marguerite and Roxton were supposed to follow, but Marguerite had other plans.

Roxton lowered the last woman over the edge, ensuring she had a good grip on the rope and turned to help Marguerite down as well, but she was gone. "Marguerite?" His voice echoed.

Marguerite had set up several explosives by the time Roxton found her crouched at the entrance. She was fixing a fuse to a barrel of gunpowder when he reached her. A quick look around and he noticed she had already set up the other explosives around the main chamber of the pyramid.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It's just a little insurance in case there's anything else that can lead them back to Veronica."

"Why, Marguerite, you do care. I'll be sure to tell her you said that."

"I'll deny every word."

Roxton smiled, however... "What about the guards?"

"What about them?" She finished with the fuse and stood. She dusted her hands on her pants, quite ready to leave.

Much as Roxton disliked the slavers, he wouldn't wish his worst enemy to be buried alive. He'd already experienced that horror and couldn't live with himself if he allowed someone else to come to the same fate. It wasn't in his character.

"Marguerite, we're not blowing them to kingdom come," he said, fully expecting an argument. However, she surprised him yet again and relented, albeit with a bit of bad temper.

"Fine, but you're helping cart them out of here."

"We can't let them know about the tunnel."

"Well," she threw up her hands irritably as she grabbed the legs of the closest guard, "then help me toss them out the front door. What do you expect of me? I'm quite happy to let them-"

"What is it?" Roxton watched Marguerite drop the guard and step back, looking guarded.

"We don't need to worry about them, John."

"What?" He looked closer and noticed the blood. Looking around he realized all the guards were already dead. "Well, never mind then."

Neither Roxton nor Marguerite spared them a thought after that, thinking the slavers deserved a lot worse.

They lit the fuses and ran for their escape.

With ease of practice, Marguerite and Roxton shinnied down the rope as fast as they could and ran for the waterfall. Kai was waiting for them with the lamp. As they made their way along the trail cut in the rock behind the falling water, they heard the explosives go off and felt the rock shudder.

For a moment, Roxton slipped on the wet stone. He managed to hold himself up with help from one of Marguerite's quick hands. He squeezed her fingers gently to show his gratitude. She gave him a tiny smile.

They made it to the bottom unscathed and the three of them shared a brief moment of delight. That they had escaped with everyone safe and sound seemed too good to be true.

The others were already embracing and whooping in relief, grouping together to move on. They would seek out their tribes and those who had no one left in their family would join the comrades they met during their enslavement.

Kai moved into the crowd and Marguerite saw her greet a young man who must have been her son. Like his mother, he too was branded with a tribal tattoos.

Marguerite and Roxton, needing their weapons and being unwilling to allow their superior firearms remain in such dangerous hands, doubled back to the slaver's camp while everyone was still celebrating. Luckily Roxton was able to get his bearings enough to find the camp with relative ease.

It took surprisingly little effort to sneak into the camp and find their guns. Most of the men were either at the pyramid, hunting, or searching for more slaves.

Their weapons in hand, Marguerite and Roxton were almost out of sight when they were spotted. A young woman pointed at them and shouted, forcing them to run for their lives into the jungle with no sense of where they were headed.

Roxton hissed once from behind Marguerite as one of their pursuer's arrows hit him in the left arm, its rusted edge burning his flesh. She turned as he stumbled, but he broke off the shaft and gestured for her to continue and forced himself to follow.

They ran as long as they could, their pursuers eventually giving up or at least falling far enough behind that they weren't seen or heard.

Roxton insisted they find a safe place to camp before dark. He could feel fever coming on, but didn't want to tell Marguerite. There was nothing she could do and he was sure all he needed was rest.

Marguerite, tired as well, quickly agreed and was able to use her knowledge of geology to find a likely place for caves to have sprung. She found one with little challenge. It was a small niche in a raised hill of limestone, out of reach of the dangerous animals. It was dry and sheltered from the elements.

They were arranging the bedding when Roxton remembered Marguerite's wound. She had shown no signs of being in any discomfort since Kai tended to her, but he wanted to be sure himself. They would need to be in good shape to make it back to the tree house in one piece and if she was still hurting, they'd need to take care of it.

"Marguerite," Roxton began hesitantly, uncertain of what reaction she'd give.

"Yes, John?" She finished spreading out her blanket before turning to him, her brows raised at his almost shy expression.

"We should check your ribs, make sure they're healing properly before we get started tomorrow."

"I feel fine."

"Please, Marguerite? Humour me."

With a sigh, Marguerite conceded, but she wasn't going to strip in front of him. "Turn around."

Smirking, Roxton did as she commanded. "I don't understand why you're so shy about this."

"And I don't know why you keep trying," she said, smiling, "You're worse than a peeping schoolboy."

Once she was ready, her clothing arranged so he only had to lift her blouse to see the wound, she allowed him to turn around again, growing quiet in the intimate setting as she bared her skin to his dark eyes. She felt both flustered and surprisingly stirred as she allowed him to move aside her clothing.

The bruising was almost gone, surprising them both. Roxton bent his head to examine her ribs, his fingers gently probing.

"Do you feel any pain?" he asked, pressing down lightly on what had been black skin only a day ago.

Marguerite shook her head. "Nothing."

Roxton looked up at her soft, almost embarrassed tone and was surprised to see her face had turned a bright pink. Although his injured arm pained him terribly, he was distracted by her.

As she blushed, she tried to remind herself that it was really a very innocent bit of her body that he was examining. Of course, the feelings flashing through her had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with her heart. His rough hands were gentle as they traced a line over her skin, making her shiver. He wasn't even looking at her side anymore.

Even with his own growing pain from the arrow still lodged in his arm, Roxton felt himself stir with desire. His heart was pounding and his breathing quickened. Marguerite was displaying trust she'd not shown him before, and even appeared to be as moved by their simple contact as he was. He'd never sought the burning, passionate romance that engulfed him, but now that he felt it, to have it returned in full was all he could hope for.

Her eyes were very wide in the darkening cave, her lips wondrously inviting.

"John," Marguerite gasped, pulling back as she felt the heat radiating from him, "you're burning up." Her eyes strayed down to the blotch of red on his shirtsleeves. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to worry." He smiled at her exasperated sigh. Roxton watched with soft eyes as Marguerite rolled up his sleeve and gasped at the sight before her. The skin was inflamed with darkened veins travelling up from the wound.

"Blood poisoning," Marguerite whispered.

She looked up to Roxton's eyes and noted how they were glazing over. She caught him before he slumped and lowered him gently to the ground. Pillowing his head on her pack, she tried to make him comfortable, astounded at how quickly he was fading.

"Stay with me, John," she said, but his eyes were already closing. Fast as she could, she ran outside and gathered all the medicinal herbs she recognized. It was more than she would have expected, but then most things in the jungle had some sort of useful purpose.

Marguerite made several trips into the jungle before she could really settle down to help Roxton. When she was done, she had a decent supply of firewood, herbs, and a good supply of water.

The warnings of both Roxton and Veronica rang in her head as Marguerite started up the fire, but she ignored them. Fire was necessary and she would fight tooth and nail if any unfriendly visitors were close enough to see it.

With clinical detachment - that was the only way she could compose herself enough to do what she had to - Marguerite cleaned the wound and removed the arrow. It was a difficult chore to do alone. Roxton was rife with sudden fever and she had to sit on his chest, her knee holding his forearm down so that he wouldn't cause more damage while she worked. The wound bled freely once she'd released the ugly bit of metal from its temporary home.

It wasn't poisoned, but the metal was horribly rusted and dirty. She grimaced as she held it up to the firelight.

Roxton moaned.

"Almost done, John," she soothed, though he couldn't hear.

Once she'd cleaned the gaping hole, she crushed some of the herbs and placed them on it. The wound itself couldn't be stitched up as the skin was too badly infected, puffy and red with disease. All she could do was apply the medicine she had on hand and help his body fight.

She had some of the medical supplies they always carried on trips, but she knew it wasn't enough even coupled with the more potent fresh materials she'd scavenged. She would need to leave for more herbs soon. For now, however, she settled at Roxton's side and did her best.

As the two passed the night together in fever and potent concern, it passed Marguerite's mind several times that her efforts wouldn't be enough. The prospect of losing someone else she cared so much about scared her more than any slavers or raptors ever had.

XXXXXXX

Challenger had lost track of time... again and worked right through night. He blinked wearily at the rising sun, trying to work out how long the others had been gone. His mind refused to work out the simple equation and he had to admit defeat. It was time for bed.

He didn't bother with more than stripping to his undergarments and bare chest before dropping into bed. He fell asleep almost immediately, which meant he was unable to see or hear the scurrying of the returned visitor.

The goblin-like Underling entered the tree house the same way it had before, through the lab window. It had returned two nights ago to observe and was relieved to note that the Protector and the other female were gone. However, though the goblin watched from a distance, it was unable to determine where the key was.

The goblin shuffled through the laboratory, searching for the key. The night was quiet apart from the goblin's snuffling breaths and its claws clicking on the floor as it alternated between moving on two legs and four. Its large eyes glowed in the early dawn gloom, the pupils wide as it peeked in every corner and on every shelf.

The human man's collection of jars and specimens rattled as the goblin pressed his face close, frightening some of the insects and a large spider within. Giving a grumbling expletive in its own language, the goblin moved on. It didn't take long for the lab to be thoroughly searched.

The goblin slammed its fist on the wood table in frustration at its lack of success.

In his bedroom, still sound asleep, Challenger began to snore. At the sound, the goblin looked up and got an idea.

Its malevolent eyes gleaming, the goblin clambered up the stairs and to the red-haired man's bedroom. It quietly searched the man's room, but remained frustrated.

Pondering its next move, the goblin climbed onto the end of Challenger's bed, staring at him. The Underling considered ripping out the human's organs until it talked. It considered biting Challenger until there was nothing left of his skin but ground meat. It yearned to rip out the human's throat and be done with the whole thing.

Coming to a decision, the Underling dropped to the ground and left. Mordren wouldn't be pleased until he had the key, but killing the humans before they produced the key was counterproductive.

Back in the forest the goblin didn't have to go far to find its comrades. Two of them waited at the base of a large tree. As soon as they saw him, they started chattering excitedly, which changed to grumbling when he told them of his failure.

They quickly got excited once more when they heard what the first goblin had planned.

Following eagerly, the three headed back to the tree house. They would find the key even if they had to force the human to tell them where it was.

XXXXXXX

"John! No, you can't leave me!" Marguerite's shout mingled with sobs, travelling through the trees and disturbing the animals.

It was many hours later, the sun beginning to creep back over the horizon and she had woken to find Roxton deathly pale and without a pulse. Certain she had dozed for less than a minute, Marguerite began compressing his chest and breathing into him. Her tears mixed with the sweat that still beaded his face.

A breath. His lungs expanded like a paper bag being inflated.

Thirty presses to his chest. She could neither see nor hear anything but her own breathing and his still body.

A breath.

Thirty chest compressions.

"Damn it, John, you can't do this to me, not now."

She had just leaned down to give him more air when she felt a puff of life escape his lips. Her fingers trembled as they pressed his jugular.

A weak, but steady heartbeat.

Marguerite took a shuddering breath, a sob escaping and she dropped her head in her shaking hands.

He was dying. She knew it and the knowledge was tearing her apart. Possessing a naturally strong instinct for survival, Marguerite had learned to fear death, but fear for her own death was only secondary to her fear of living with grief. Loss had been her constant companion for her whole life until she'd learned to push all good feelings away, to be the kind of woman others feared and hated just so she wouldn't have to feel what she felt now.

"Damn you, Roxton," she said through her tears as she pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Why did you have to make me love you?"

Roxton, of course, did not answer.

The night of unrest had required her to use all the herbs and water she'd collected. Wiping her cheeks, Marguerite stood a bit shakily. Even with no one to hear but herself, Marguerite continued to speak aloud, drawing some comfort from breaking the silence.

"Now, because you're such a pain, Lord Roxton, I have to go get more supplies." She wiped the sweat from his brow with her handkerchief, smoothing his hair back as well. "So I want you to stay here and wait for me. If you die, I'll be quite put out." Her voice wavered and another tear escaped. "I won't be long. I promise."

She placed a lingering kiss on his feverish forehead, checked that all was safe and then jogged off into the jungle.

Marguerite had never been a fast gatherer when it came to medicinal supplies, but then she'd rarely worked with a deadline. She hurried now, grabbing up plants as though determined to stuff the whole jungle in her bag before noon. There were more plants than she thought she could even name let alone remember uses for, but she gathered them all and was confident of their healing qualities as she did so. Challenger and Summerlee would have been proud.

While stripping some bark from a rather stubborn tree, Marguerite spotted slavers. Ducking down quickly and quietly, she watched them stalk. It was a miracle they'd not heard her. Breathing hard, she hid behind the tree trunk until they had passed.

Taking a quick glance, Marguerite noted the group of men were the same ones from before. She wondered if their pursuit was about gathering all the lost slaves or about revenge. In the end, she decided it didn't matter. They would not take her or Roxton either way.

Once the jungle returned to its normal cadence, she pulled a knife from her boot and used it to cut the bark then headed back, suddenly in a desperate need to ensure Roxton was safe.

Covering her tracks as much as possible when in a frightful hurry, Marguerite was extremely grateful to finally return to the cave. Laden with her supplies and worried at what she might find, she didn't notice at first how the fire had not died at all or that the stack of firewood was much larger than when she'd left. However, she did notice the very large man crouched next to Roxton.

Kartas watched the woman drop her bag and raise her metal weapon, noting her swiftness and confidence even with the telling signs of strain and exhaustion. He counted himself lucky that she chose not to act rashly. Here too was a warrior.

"Get away from him." Her voice was cold and authoritative. The need to protect Roxton drove all other thoughts out of her as she stared at the strange man. He was tattooed and covered in paint and though he raised his hands to placate her, she got the impression that the gun she held would matter little in a fight with him. He was a mountain of muscle and flesh.

"I am not here to harm you or the Marquess." The term and the man's tattoo rang a bell in Marguerite's memory, but it wasn't enough to distract her.

"Get away from him now or I'll kill you." Her pointed gaze and steadily trained gun emphasized her words, but Kartas smiled. Details were unknown, but he already had the basics of her character worked out thanks to his wife's descriptions and his personal observation.

"If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead." He lowered his hands and remained where he was, though he made sure to keep his eyes on her. At the moment she didn't wish to kill him, but moments passed quickly with people more stable than her.

"I don't know who you are, but you're not -"

"I am Kartas. You helped my wife and son escape the slave camp yesterday."

"Kartas? _The _Kartas hunting that awful man Largo?"

He nodded, realizing that she was one of the few members of the tree house who had not met him in person before.

"Kai is your wife?" She supposed that explained the similar tattoos. Hesitantly, she lowered her gun and came a bit closer. He certainly looked like a ferocious warrior, but he made no move for his weapons and looking around she realized he'd had plenty of time to kill Roxton if that had been his intention.

"She asked me to find you." He looked down at Roxton. "I am glad she did."

Forgetting her wariness, Marguerite dropped to her knees beside John, across from Kartas. Her eyes were wide and hopeful. Remembering what the others had said about the man, she placed a hand on Roxton's chest. "Can you help him?"

Marguerite sighed in relief when Kartas nodded. "I can, but I will need more medicine than I have with me."

"What do you need? I have bandages and cat's claw, andiroba, fedegoso, balsam, honey -"

"Those are useless," Kartas interrupted her list. Marguerite flushed red and was ready to retort, but he continued before she could, explaining. "He is too far gone for such things. They would have been useful when he was first wounded, but no longer."

Marguerite nodded sadly. "Damn stubborn man didn't tell me he was injured."

His eyes became assessing, wondering if this woman would or could do what he was about to ask. "What I need is very special. It only grows in the land of my ancestors, a long way from here."

"All right," Marguerite nodded absently. "I have enough here to keep him comfortable until you get back."

"Until you get back."

Marguerite froze, eyes locking on Kartas, certain he must be joking. "You can't be serious. I'm not leaving him alone."

"I will stay with the Marquess. You have done the best you can here and it is not enough. If I leave him here with you, he will die before I return."

As much as she wished to argue, to stay with John as long as she could, she knew Kartas was right. She didn't have the knowledge or tools to keep him alive for much longer. Still, what assurance did she have that Kartas could make any difference? "And what are you going to do that's so much better while you send me out to God knows where?"

"I have ways to keep the infection at bay," said Kartas, "but it will not keep him alive for long. The fever is too deep in his blood."

Years - a lifetime of validated mistrust screamed at her not to agree to it, but she couldn't give up on John. It was unthinkable. She was torn in two as she looked from one man to the other. Who did she chose? What could she believe? What decision was best? If she stayed, John would die, but if she went, he could still die and she would miss the last moments she had with him and always wonder if there was something more she could have done.

Looking over Roxton, who moaned in pain, his face white and covered in sweat, Marguerite's head bowed. There was no choice then. She would have to leave him and hope she could make it back in time.

"You're right. Where do I need to go?"

"You will need to open the way. I will show you," said Kartas standing.

He led her outside the cave and pointed southeast. Marguerite didn't think there was much in that direction, but then the Plateau had changed a great deal.

"How far?"

Kartas eyed her shorter legs. "A day... for me."

"Wonderful," she sighed. Kartas handed her a pouch of what felt like sand.

"Walk until you see a stone marker with three deep scratches on it. Then spread this," he tapped the pouch, "in the air and enter the light."

Marguerite listened, eyes wide with amazement, but not disbelief, never disbelief. She had seen stranger things even in England and hadn't been lying when she said her séances were never discredited. They'd never been as visually dynamic as her contact with Malone had been, but that didn't mean they were useless.

"Continue southeast. You will come across a stream of clear, warm water. Follow it to its source. It comes from the rocks themselves. The tree grows only at the source."

"How will I know which one?"

"Its roots are the only ones that reach into the source. Its bark is many colours. Cut as much bark as you can and collect some of the water. I will need both."

Thinking a moment, she then took off her rifle and handed it to him. He looked at it curiously. "You know how to shoot?"

"Yes." His tribe didn't use them, but had learned of the projectile weapons from others.

"I saw slavers in the area. You might need it. There's ammunition in our packs."

Kartas looked at the Marquess' mate with some surprise. She was awfully bold for such a twig of a woman. "And you?"

"I'm travelling light. Some water, food, and these." She patted the pistol at her hip. Anything that couldn't be taken out with her trusty gun would have to be outrun, which fit. If she couldn't hurry back then it wouldn't matter if she returned at all.

"Then take this. It will be useful." Kartas took one of his smaller knives from his waist and handed it to Marguerite. Though it was little more than a whittling tool for him, it was almost a machete for her. "I must warn you. You will be tested. The tree is sacred, its powers potent and the land will not give up its secrets easily. Only those who pass the tests are permitted to gather the bark."

Marguerite didn't know exactly what he meant, but looking down at the sizeable knife she felt the weight of it as though it represented the weight of her responsibility: she didn't feel worthy. She never had.

"You should have faith," said Kartas, his wise eyes on her.

Kartas saw her off, an inscrutable expression on his face, though she thought it was a bit apprehensive.

The going was hard. Her straight path meant she could not go around rocky outcrops or hills but had to go over in order to continue moving in the right direction. In no time at all she had worked up a sweat. Her pace alone was arduous, but she didn't slow or stop.

It only took a few hours of alternating walking and jogging for her sharp eyes to spot the stone marker. Knowing what to look for, she couldn't miss it. The stone looked perfectly normal on the one side, but as she approached she saw the side facing her was cut smooth and had three deep gouges in it.

She stood next to the stone and as Kartas instructed, took a handful of the powder and tossed it in the air, spreading it out. Immediately the shimmering dust caught on to something, like sawdust in a spider's web. The shape was very similar to a door, its outline brought to view by the powder that now covered it like a sparkling veil.

After a moment, the tiny sparks of light began to connect and glow until it was a solid mass of light.

Without hesitation, Marguerite stepped through it, unsure what to expect.

XXXXXXX

Challenger woke tied to a chair with a headache and no small amount of confusion. He was in his lab with three of the strangest beings he'd ever set eyes on. They were all very similar and he recognized them as the same species as the creature that had attacked him days before.

They stared down at him from their perches on his bookcase and the lab table. It seemed Veronica was right to take Arthur with them if indeed that was what they were after. Though why they would be after the beetle was a mystery to Challenger.

One of the creatures - Challenger was certain it was the same one from before - jumped down from the table to the floor in front of him. It looked up, its eyes focussed on him and him alone. Amazed, Challenger gazed back. If he didn't know better, he'd think the creature was going to speak. His jaw dropped with an audible pop the next moment.

"Where key?" The goblin spoke in a raspy voice unused to forming human words.

"I... I beg your pardon?"

"Where key?"

"I don't know what the devil you're talking about." The blow was quick and harsh, snapping his head to the side. The goblin sat in Challenger's lap now, its face twisted in anger. It was heavy and its breath putrid.

"Where key?" The goblin used one clawed finger to draw a red line from Challenger's ear to his chin. As Challenger fought to keep from screaming the goblin grinned.

XXXXXXX

The land was dead. She both saw and felt it in the way her very soul seemed to wither.

Nothing lived here long and yet there were signs that it had once been a verdant forest. Dead trees, their trunks gnarled and splintering dotted the landscape, their foliage long since gone. Pits and gouges in the ground marked where others had long since disappeared.

Though the sun shone, it was dulled and the sky hazy as though covered with smoke, leaving the land shadowed and colourless. The ground was mostly sand and rock, a few sprigs of dried grass poking out of the soil here and there. A few tufts of longer grass were visible in the distance, but even those appeared to be no more than standing hay.

Marguerite hastened forward, hoping to find signs of life somewhere. The quiet of the shadow land haunted her and made her skin prickle. Though the place seemed deserted, there was a cloying sense of being watched. And she was.

Sensing the presence of someone new, the guardians of the shadowed land woke. The first, little more than shadow itself, rose from the barren ground and drew close to the intruder, seeking the darkest corners of her mind with which to play. Finding what it needed, it retreated just enough to keep its presence from the woman's senses.

Marguerite whirled around, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. There was no one there, but the feeling persisted.

"Hello?"

There was a sharp tug on the back of her blouse and though she turned quickly, there was nothing to see.

A disembodied voice laughed, the cruel sound cutting to Marguerite's heart and filling it with fear. She could not fight what she couldn't see or understand.

"What are you?" she shouted. Out of habit, she pulled out her pistol.

"I am the great abyss," said the voice, neither male nor female but a whisper in the wind. "I am the end of life, the long walk all must one day take."

"Death?" Marguerite shouted. "Are you saying you're Death?" There was no answer. "If you are, we've already met."

When there was no answer, Marguerite continued on, running this time. If Death really was here, playing another game, then time was more limited than she thought.

"You have failed."

Marguerite ignored the voice and kept running.

"Roxton is dead."

Her step faltered a moment. "You're lying."

"He is mine now. You were not fast enough," the voice whispered in her ear, "not strong enough, not worthy to have him."

The shadow collided with Marguerite's shoulder, forcing her off balance. Another hit to her leg and back and she fell to the hard ground. It laughed when she swung her weapon around as though it could protect her.

It watched her get up and start running again before its second attack.

"Too late! You are too late." It hit her in the hip, the calf, retreating in shadow form so that she never saw what hit her. "John Roxton is dead!"

"No," Marguerite panted, forcing herself to run just a bit faster. "No, I don't believe you."

The shadow rushed her at full speed, knocking her to the ground over and over again, disappearing like smoke in the wind.

"If he was really gone," she shouted, tears in her voice and eyes, "then you wouldn't be fighting me so hard."

Through the tears she withheld, Marguerite saw the deeper shadows from the bases of the trees collect into a solid mass, one that took form as Lord John Roxton. He looked like he did when she left him in the cave, only much worse. His skin was white, his fingers and lips a pale blue, and around his eyes appeared bruised.

Another shadow joined him, gowning to form a copy of Veronica. She appeared alive, but cold and harsher than the real Veronica. Her beautiful face was drawn in an angry glare. Piercing eyes settled on Marguerite, their flashing depths accusing.

"John? Veronica?"

"You let me die, Marguerite." Instead of going to her as he normally would, John stayed a pace away with Veronica, staring down at her accusingly.

"You're not real," she whispered. He looked so horribly realistic that it broke her heart.

"Of course I am." He crouched next to her. His masculine scent invaded her nostrils along with the fetid stench of death. She held still, frozen, as he leaned forward and whispered to her. "Ask me anything."

Marguerite stared up at him and asked the only question she could think of. "When did you tell me you loved me?"

"When we were trapped in the cave with the body of your ancestor."

"What did Osric use as leverage against you?"

"My life and my soul." He stared at her accusingly. "I said I would always be there for you."

"You're not real. You can't be. You're in a cave with Kartas, waiting for me to get back -" Even as she said it, she couldn't help wondering how much time she'd already lost.

"I'm not alive if that's what you mean. You left me alone to die."

"No, I tried - I'm still trying."

"It's too late. You let me die."

"You -"

"You are not worthy of him," said Veronica. "You never were. It's better that he's dead so he doesn't have to suffer the disappointment you'd bring him."

"You as good as killed me with your own hands," said Roxton.

"You're a liar, Marguerite, a selfish murderer."

"You and your selfishness, your weakness killed me. I hate you." Roxton's voice was full of venom and his expression spoke only of disgust.

"No!" she sobbed. It was too much. The tears were finally unleashed.

"Why didn't you save me?" He asked, his tone cold. "I would have saved you."

"I'm so sorry, John."

"How can you be sorry? You're cold, heartless, unfeeling. You've never loved anyone in your life. That's why everyone abandoned you. They knew what evil you contain and couldn't wait to leave."

Veronica sneered. "Your parents, teachers, peers, your lovers all knew you weren't worth their efforts."

Marguerite cried, putting her head in her hands.

"You pretended to love me, just as I pretended to love you. If I hadn't died, I would have left you sooner or later."

"You're not real." Shaking her head, Marguerite looked up, fighting for composure. "You're not really John. He wouldn't say these things."

"It's the truth and you know it."

"You can't fight the truth," said Veronica.

"You let me down just as you let everyone down. Murderer and thief... that's all you are."

"How many men, women and children have you led to slaughter? What does it matter to you to have one more on your hands?"

"No!" Marguerite screamed. She forced herself to her feet and faced off with this thing in Roxton and Veronica's form.

"You killed me," said Roxton, "as surely as you killed everyone you've known."

"Whatever my life or my guilt, you can't make me stop. I'm going to save him no matter what you throw at me." With that, she backed away and took off again.

The images of Roxton and Veronica burst into smoke and disappeared, smirking. In a whirlwind, the smoke rose and merged with other rising shadows, following the fleeing Marguerite. It alternated throwing insults and rushing at her unprotected back.

She stumbled, scratching her hands horribly as she caught herself several times. Blood soaked her knees and palms.

The shadow hit her back full on and she fell, rolling and springing back up to keep going.

The shadow laughed, the sound assaulting Marguerite on all sides.

It hit her over and over until she was on her knees. As she tried to get up, it struck her again.

"Damn you!" Marguerite shouted. She kneeled, throwing her head back she screamed to the greyish sky. "What do you want from me?"

"Give up."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Turn back. Go home and live your life free of him, free of the chains he would put on you."

"No! I won't." She wailed and once more pushed herself up to her feet. Though her legs were weak and her vision blurred by tears, she continued on. "I can't."

"Why not?" the shadows whispered, continuing to pummel her with strikes. "He is nothing but a nuisance to you."

"I won't let him die."

As soon as she said it, the cloaked figure of Death appeared before her. The scythe rose and swung at Marguerite. She raised a hand in defence.

"No," she shouted in desperation before the blade could fall, "I'll make a deal."

Death paused. "What would you trade?"

"Anything. Just let me save him."

"Would you trade your life?"

Marguerite paused a moment only out of surprise, thinking of the response she'd received in her last meeting with Death, and then nodded. "Yes."

Then, as quickly as the figure had appeared, it was gone. Marguerite lowered her arm and looked around. She was alone. There wasn't a hint of her tormentors.

After a quick glance around, Marguerite continued on through the shadowed land, unsure whether she had actually made a deal. Had that really been Death, or was it something else?

XXXXXXX

Kartas heard the intruders long before they thought he could. He peeked out the cave entrance, turning an ear to the noise. They were a fair distance away still.

He returned to the side of Lord Roxton, watching with concern as the man burned in fever. He didn't have much time left.

XXXXXXX

The little monsters were vicious Challenger soon learned. Their claws and teeth were not overly large, but they were sharp and pierced his skin all too easily.

Stubborn and determined to keep his friends safe, Challenger pretended ignorance as the goblins tried to wring information from him.

Despite their apparent determination to learn the location of the 'key' they asked for, it was obvious they didn't want to hurt him too badly. No doubt they want to make sure I'm still able to speak when they win, thought Challenger grimly. He didn't know whether to be grateful for that or not. On the one hand, he had nothing more than a few bumps and scratches... and a pain in his rear from sitting too long. However, it also meant they were not pressed for time and this would continue for a long while, and that they were working up to bigger and worse things.

He sat, contemplating his situation and possible ways to escape, when the trio crawled up to him once more, dragging something behind them. He paled to see it was one of his own inventions.

His portable generator crackled to life as the goblins turned the handle, one holding up the electrodes.

"Where key?" the creature asked.

"I don't know."

The goblin advanced and Challenger panicked. Too well did he know the strength of his own invention. That the creatures would know how much electricity would kill him and how to set his machine to emit less than that was doubtful.

"What does it look like?"

"Gold." The goblin climbed onto his knees again, putting its ugly, scrunched face close to his. "Gold key." He held up a clenched fist. "No bigger."

Challenger nodded, eager to keep them placated. "What else?"

The goblin thought hard, trying to remember what it had been told. "Round."

A round, gold key. How peculiar, thought Challenger and how unfortunate for him. He really hadn't seen anything like that around the tree house. It was good for the fate of his beetle, but not so good for him should they decide he was then useless.

"I don't know where it is, but I can help you look."

XXXXXXX

Behind was the dead forest and ahead was a great stretch of grassland like the plains of Africa. As soon as she set foot into the sea of long grass, she knew she was in trouble.

As in a dream, her feet dragged no matter how she tried to hurry. It took all her strength to raise one foot and set it down again. A breeze captured her hair, pushing it off her shoulder. However, even that was slowed, the curly locks caught in the air.

Looking up, she saw the sun rise and fall many times, speeding up as though God were spinning the world hundreds of times faster than it should go. The clouds passed and formed again, rolling over the always grey sky, hiding even the haze of the moon.

The days were as dark and dismal as any she'd ever seen and the nights were enough to drive anyone mad.

Still, day and night passed quickly until in no time at all, Marguerite was as ancient and withered as the landscape.

Feeling her strength waning as she neared the middle of the grassland, Marguerite managed to find a fallen log to sit on and the warped time released her. With a sigh, she pulled off her canteen and took a sip. As tired as she was, her hands caught her attention and she looked at them in horror, barely holding back a scream.

Marguerite held her pale, wrinkled hands up and then ran them over her face, growing more horrified as she felt the results of unnatural aging on her features. Her hair had gone grey and her skin turned leathery and wrinkled as a badly folded shirt, age spots and discolouration taking all her beauty from her.

Panic closed in and she only just managed to hold back her sobs as the weight of her lost time settled in. Still, she couldn't help a few stifled noises of distress.

An entire lifetime had passed for her and she remembered every day, every month, and every year that had passed, each one spent in a quagmire of time. Though she viewed it as though it were a foggy dream, it still felt real and the results on her features most certainly seemed to be. She didn't know what to do, what had happened.

"I remember... So many years," she whispered, tears trickling down her face. "Oh, God... Roxton!"

She cried in earnest now, all too aware that after two days let alone years he would be dead.

So much time wasted, so many things left unsaid and though years had passed in her perspective, she still loved him.

"John, I'm so sorry I let you down." She pressed her hands over her face and whispered, "I love you."

As the tears flowed for her dead love, the salty water washed her face and took the unnatural ageing with them. She wiped at her cheeks and felt them restored, looked at her hands and saw them smooth and elegant again. Her hair was its normal black, soft and healthy. She stood and her whole body felt renewed.

"Hold on, John," she said, the memory of years fading from mind like the dream it was. "I'm coming."

The way seemed clear, her test over, so Marguerite ran for all she was worth.

She didn't notice at first the two raptors on either side trailing along behind her. They crouched low so that they were perfectly hidden by the taller grass. The only noise they made was a gentle swishing as their tails brushed aside the dried stalks. The only signs that they had passed were the paths in the standing hay. Their toothy grins widened as they drew closer to their prey.

The sound of dry grass rustling made Marguerite turn, pistol ready. She could see nothing. Still, instinct niggled at the back of her mind and she moved back the way she'd come to investigate the sound.

Once she was back a bit, she could see the parallel paths that had been created frighteningly close to her own. She crossed over and bent to examine a footprint in the loose soil. After three years on the Plateau, the print was instantly recognizable as raptor. Standing up cautiously, she began to feel real fear. The path of the raptors followed her own and now that she had backtracked to investigate, they could be ahead or behind her. Her pistol seemed very small and insignificant in that moment.

There was nothing else to do. Taking a deep breath, Marguerite plunged headlong through the grassland. The quicker movement excited the lizards and taking a great leap, they left their crouches to attack.

Too eager, the raptors overshot their target, who ducked and rolled forward, narrowly avoiding disembowelment. The leap and miss forced the raptors momentarily off balance. Scrambling, they shrieked in excitement as their prey ran for its life.

Marguerite didn't want to use her limited ammunition when she didn't know what else was coming, not when she could still run. The grass crackled and clawed at her pants, impeding her movement.

The raptors were faster than she was.

With the open terrain, they quickly overtook the human and slid to a halt in front of her, blocking her forward progression. Once there, they stood, tails swishing and teeth glistening. Their sharp yellow eyes fixed steadily on her, taking in every movement, but they did not attack.

She let out a breath, uncertain why the animals had stopped. Ten seconds passed and then another ten. When she didn't move, the raptors took a step forward. Marguerite hastily moved back and they stopped.

They were herding her back the way she'd come.

To see what would happen, Marguerite waited. The raptors swished their tails irritably and forced her back another few steps.

So... they wanted to test her determination. They would rue the day they doubted her.

Slowly, she drew her pistol. It would be a shame to waste her ammunition, but if it had to be done...

The raptors knew what was coming and dodged, each going a separate way before Marguerite could pull the trigger. They were much too fast for her. Each one managed to slash at her, spilling crimson blood on the parched ground. One managed to reach behind and grab her leg in his razor-like teeth.

Leg caught in the raptor's mouth, she could do nothing, feel nothing but the shifting ground and passing air. She was like a doll in a careless child's hand.

She could not use her pistol with the violent movement so she grasped the knife Kartas gave her and lunged at the raptor. It was just a glancing blow to the great lizard, but it was enough. It let go and disappeared with its mate into the grasses, leaving Marguerite alone in the silence.

Marguerite gasped at the sharp pain in her ribs, her arm, and legs. She could tell by the warm feel of gushing blood that the wounds were deep and dangerous. She tried to stand and her injured legs collapsed beneath her. A deep breath, a determined shove off the ground, and she at least had her feet under her. Though, how far she could go was to be seen.

Stumbling forward onto her hands again, she quickly realized that walking would be an infinite challenge and running impossible. How then would she continue on? How would she save John?

"Think, Marguerite," she muttered to herself. "You need to get up. Get up."

Her legs trembled, but she valiantly tried to keep moving. Her wounds bled freely. She had no bandages anyway. Luckily, the raptors didn't seem to be interested in her anymore and she wondered bleakly if that meant they were going to let her bleed to death.

A few hundred yards was as far as she was able to get before forced to her knees and then she crawled. When her limbs failed her, she pulled herself along on her stomach. As though the land itself was attempting to stop her, there grew an ominous rumbling in the ground.

The earth began to tremble and shake. Chunks of rocks larger than Westminster Abbey rose and broke apart as the land all around broke up, rising and falling like a churning ocean without any rhythm.

Marguerite rolled to the side as chunks of debris rained down on her. She tried to get up to run, but she had no strength left for it. Terrified, she realized there was nothing she could do. Even if she could get up, there was nowhere to go.

She had failed.

XXXXXXX

It was hopeless and Challenger knew it.

He sat at the kitchen table, journals and reference books spread in front of him and one of the goblins staring at him from across the table. The other two were out of his line of sight, sitting on the furniture like hawks. He had convinced them research would help and since they couldn't read, they'd allowed him his freedom at last. They hadn't left him alone though, unnerving him with their malevolent eyes always watching. There was just one problem. Research was only a ploy to give him time to think of something better and time was running out.

He had seen enough of Veronica's books to know the answer didn't rest in her parent's journals or Malone's. The notes didn't say anything about keys and certainly if there was mention of gold then Marguerite -

Marguerite, thought Challenger with a groan.

If the creatures sought gold and expected it to be at the tree house, then it was a good guess that Marguerite had either found or stolen something she thought would contribute to her personal riches.

The goblin shifted restlessly as it sensed his attention divert.

Challenger contemplated the option of really helping them recover their key, but dismissed the idea after a moment. If Marguerite had found a gold ball recently, she would have hidden it and hidden it well. Since the last raid of her treasure, she'd been extra diligent about her hoarding. Finn and Veronica had made it a game - secrecy from Marguerite a key component - to search for her hidden baubles. So far they'd found a ring and a bag of low-quality gems. Neither object had been worth hiding.

Still, thinking about the wily heiress gave him an idea. She was good in situations like these.

"I... I found something," he said slowly. The goblins perked up immediately and he thought quickly, trying to think like Marguerite would. "I know where your key is."

"Where key?"

"I'll show you on a map." He stood, noting the suspicious looks exchanged between his captors. As one, they converged, stopping him from taking more than two steps.

"Take."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Take," said the goblin. It poked at his leg and Challenger understood.

"Very well. I'll take you to it."

XXXXXXX

The slavers had greater numbers and the coverage of the jungle to their advantage. Kartas had skill, patience, two rifles, and three walls of rock around him. Unfortunately, skill only went so far in such a situation and it was unwise to waste ammunition when you couldn't see your opponent.

Kartas looked back at Roxton, the man he'd promised to protect. It would be easier to leave the man to his fate, but the very idea went against his nature and his honour.

Sticking his head out the entrance, Kartas attempted to catch a glimpse of his opponents. He pulled back quickly to avoid the volley of arrows. They were getting closer and bolder.

He picked up the rifle and returned fire, hoping to force them back. It seemed to work. He saw a few bodies retreat and the attack stopped for a few minutes. It allowed him time to check on his patient.

The Marquess was drenched in sweat and sickly looking. Despite all of Kartas' efforts he would not survive another night. His pulse beat weakly beneath pale skin and his eyes, which had been shifting restlessly earlier, were still but for a few twitches. Kartas forced a few dribbles of liquid down Roxton's throat and wiped his forehead.

Clattering at the entrance had Kartas draw his knives just in time to throw them into the chest of an intruder. The man fell dead instantly and his brother dropped just as quickly as Kartas leapt at him, a third knife drawn and ready. He retrieved his weapons from the first man and killed two more.

Looking out the mouth of the cave, he saw more men coming and quickly retrieved one of the rifles. It was not his weapon of choice and only three of five bullets hit their mark.

He fired into the growing crowd until there was no more ammunition, at which point, the slavers had swarmed the cave. It was down to hand-to-hand combat and it was fierce with Kartas' knives swinging and the slavers just as intense.

His fighting was superb and his drive fuelled by the respect and honour due to his fellow warrior and the knowledge that these were the people responsible for the slavery of his wife and son. Still, his opponents had greater forces on their side. Within minutes he was overrun.

By circumstance, Kartas was driven from the relative protection of the cave and into the open. The few who dared face him head on were cut down.

As Kartas battled two men at once, a third came from behind, a machete raised.

A gunshot sounded and the man fell. Kartas looked around as the rest of the men were either shot or fled.

Marguerite emerged from the jungle, pistol smoking. She stood straight and tall, fire in her eyes as usual. She appeared a little worn, scratched and bloody, but otherwise fine. However, looking closely at her, Kartas couldn't help thinking there was something different about her. She seemed colder, more reserved than when she'd left.

"So, you did survive," said Kartas. He didn't smile, but Marguerite sensed he was pleased.

"I did more than survive." She held up her bag, her prize tucked safely inside. "Let's get to work."

They crouched at Roxton's side, Marguerite holding his hand and stroking his head as Kartas mixed and heated a solution. He poured the water Marguerite had brought into a larger, waterproof bag and tossed the bark into it as well. To heat the water and help release the nutrients of the bark, he used thick gloves made of raptor skins to retrieve a rock he'd placed in the heart of the fire hours before and placed the heated rock into the bag.

The water sizzled and a rich, earthy scent filled the cave. It was the smell of life, like a forest after a much needed rain and it made the hours of toil melt from Marguerite's body. She inhaled deeply and felt her weariness go, her aches and pains and even a little of her heartache ease. Roxton breathed a bit easier, his chest rising with more strength. Kartas crushed several more herbs to release their oils and added them to the mixture.

When the liquid was done to his satisfaction, Kartas trickled some of it back into a canteen Marguerite handed him and then instructed her to get Roxton to drink it. As she did so, propping him up on her folded legs, Kartas set about cleaning Roxton's wounds with the rest of the medicine. He unwound the bandages, grimacing at the ugly, broken flesh. Paying only a little attention to the woman's encouraging words to her mate, Kartas set the greater of his attention on his patient.

It took the better part of an hour to get all the medicine down Roxton's throat and to bathe his wound sufficiently. Once there was nothing left to do but wait, Kartas sat back on his heels and regarded the two Europeans with come curiosity.

Marguerite sat with her back against the cave wall, one leg on either side of Roxton and his head pillowed on her stomach. It had been the easiest position for her to maintain while tending John. Now, she was simply too tired to move. Kartas handed her a blanket, which she placed over Roxton, tucking the sides under her legs. Exhausted, she leaned back against the rock wall and closed her eyes, an arm protectively wrapped around Roxton's torso.

"You are a strong woman," said Kartas, watching the small female before him. He thought a moment. "Much like my Kai."

"Hmm," Marguerite mumbled. Then, remembering something she'd wondered earlier, she opened her heavy eyes. "Not that I'm not eternally grateful, but why did she ask you to come after us?"

Kartas reached into one of the leather pouches on his waist and drew out a folded piece of cloth. It was rough and worn with time.

"Veronica Layton's parents spent some time with my wife in that slave camp," he explained.

Marguerite looked down at the cloth with greater interest. It was very warm as Kartas dropped it into her palm and a sense of ownership filled her. Carefully, her hands trembling just a bit, she unwrapped the cloth. Kartas watched her with curiosity.

"They left this for her to give to a woman they believed would cross her path one day."

It was a pendant much like Veronica's. Made of iridium, it was a simple triangle within a circle. A current of energy ran over it as Marguerite touched a finger to the warm metal. The energy moved up her arm and spread through her body. If Kartas noticed the way her eyes flashed a vibrant green, he didn't show it.

"How could they possibly have known we'd end up in that horrible place?" Marguerite asked, still holding the pendant. Though she felt like it belonged to her, she was loath to put it on. If its powers were anything like Veronica's then it was more than a piece of jewellery. Like holding Kartas' knife, responsibility weighted it down, making it seem heavier than it was.

"I do not know. They described you and said you would likely know Veronica, but nothing more."

To keep it safe, Marguerite placed the chain around her neck, hiding the pendant beneath her blouse with her gold locket and once again closed her eyes, too tired to ask the questions she knew she should. They faded from her tongue and from her memory before they could be uttered.

"I will stay while you sleep," said Kartas. Though he longed to return to his wife, there was no way Marguerite could defend herself or Roxton while so exhausted. He would wait until she had at least a few hours to rest.

XXXXXXX

The land looked a little different from the last time he'd ventured this far into the jungle, but not enough to cause him alarm. The overgrown paths and even some of the newer ones were the same. Still, it was with relief that he saw the main feature was there.

The goblins followed Challenger into the circle of trees, surveying the area for one thing only. They were so absorbed with looking for a glint of gold that they missed the crisscrossing tracks and tiny bits of crushed shells.

Challenger moved lightly, ready to run and fully expecting to have to spend a night in a tree at least. A chirp like a large bird made him tense.

"Where key?"

"Look around," said Challenger eagerly. "It should be here somewhere."

The goblins nodded, one of them prodding Challenger's leg to prompt him to help. He moved around, his eyes straying from the ground often to search the foliage around them.

The attack happened less than five minutes after their arrival. The two raptors - Challenger couldn't help noting the lizards were relatively small, still youngsters - leapt gracefully upon the most vulnerable victims first. Two of the goblins were snatched up by the hungry beasts, their shrieks of rage cutting off as large teeth crunched down.

The third goblin was quick and clever, climbing up onto Challenger's shoulders before he could escape. It latched on, claws at the human's neck, determined to outlive the traitorous man.

They struggled briefly, Challenger fully aware that the raptors would turn to him in seconds. Even if they weren't hungry, they would defend their nesting territory. Unable to shake the monstrous little creature from his shoulders, Challenger grabbed hold of its wrists and yanked.

Ignoring the sting of claws pulling at his flesh, Challenger managed to loosen the goblin's hold and threw it from him, right to the waiting maw of the raptors. He didn't wait around to watch the animals fight over their prize. In moments he was far from the nest and had no intention of stopping.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite dreamed like she hadn't in years, the sights, sounds and sensations so real and yet so surreal that it never entered her mind that she was just dreaming. Some of it was pleasant, the simple and completely ridiculous thoughts of a tired mind, and some of it unpleasant as always happens after frightening events.

She woke several times in a daze after a nightmare, reassured each time by the outline of Kartas at the cave entrance or closer to check Roxton's health, and by the warm weight of Roxton's body. The heat coming off him was more than it should have been for many hours, but it still made her feel better to know he was alive a moment more at least.

The night faded and so too did Roxton's fever.

By the time Marguerite woke for good, the sun was up fully and Kartas was gone. She felt Roxton's forehead and smiled in relief. He shifted against her, rolling onto his uninjured side and burrowing his head into her stomach. He breathed deeply as though smelling her and then relaxed back into his dreams. Marguerite didn't have the heart to wake him. It seemed she wouldn't have to.

The habit of countless mornings pressed Lord John Roxton's mind until he finally woke, his lids feeling heavy despite the bright light coming from the cave entrance. He felt something soft and warm beneath his face and happily burrowed deeper into it, his half-working mind assuming it was his pillow. The pillow moved, breathing, and he drew back in surprise. He looked up into Marguerite's dirt-smeared face. She traced her hand over his features and through his hair, her expression so solemn that he wondered what he'd missed.

"How do you feel?" Marguerite asked, greedily taking in every nuance of his face, the feel of his body against hers, the crinkles as he smiled. Even the lingering scent of sickness seemed a miracle to her.

"Fine, just tired." It was true. There was no pain and all traces of the fever were gone. He glanced around. "What happened?"

"You were sick." Her tone was flat, uncharacteristically monotone.

"What's wrong?" Though he didn't know the reason for it, Roxton sensed the difference immediately in the way her body and expression tensed. He steeled himself for a brawl.

"You should have told me you were hurt before it got so bad. You almost died."

"It's a good thing your nursing skills have improved so much then," he said, trying to make her smile.

"No, it's a good thing your friend Kartas showed up."

"Kartas? What was he doing here? How did he find us?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

"Will you at least tell me now why you're so upset?"

"Why would I be upset? You only ignored a wound until it festered and then almost died on me," she said with a huff.

"Marguerite, please don't be mad," he said, lowering his voice in response to her terse tone.

"You - you did die. Your heart stopped." Roxton drew a surprised breath. "No matter what I did, you kept getting worse and -" She couldn't continue, the memory of his cooling lips beneath hers as she tried to give him life was too much. She turned her head away, trying to hide the sudden rise of tears.

Roxton reached up, gently trying to turn her chin so he could see her expression. She resisted and he let her, giving her time to compose herself. It took several moments, her hand rising to wipe her wet cheeks several times. With surprising ease considering the state he'd been in only hours earlier, he removed himself from her soft body and sat back, watching her struggle and wishing he could help. She pulled her knees into her chest, looking much like a sad child.

"It's all right, Marguerite. We're safe. You did wonderfully and I feel just fine now."

"Kartas sent me to get you medicine. I almost failed. I did fail."

"But you didn't. I'm alive and I feel great thanks to your expert care." He smiled warmly. "You're my hero."

"Damn you."

Roxton blinked, surprised and utterly confused by the bitterness in her quietly spoke words. He wanted to grab her and pull her to him, to make her renewing tears vanish, and to demand she tell him everything, but he was afraid to so much as touch her. She seemed so fragile despite her stiff posture and so close to fleeing that he was afraid any attempts to comfort would be rebuffed.

"Why did you have to make me love you? You couldn't leave me well enough alone, couldn't just accept my rejection and move on to your next conquest. No, you had to push for more, and more, and more. You and Veronica, and Arthur, George, and even Ned - you all had to be so bloody naive and pretend to care until I couldn't -"

She was almost hyperventilating, caught in her emotion. She paused to take several deep, steady breaths.

"It would have been so much easier for me if..." This was too much for Roxton to hear without voicing his own opinion.

"If what? If I'd never realized who you really are? It's not all my doing, Marguerite. You can't hide the good, brave person you are underneath all your bluster and false animosity. I would have been content with exchanging insults if I hadn't seen glimpses of your kindness, your humour. You drew me in as much as I tried to do with you."

"And now look at us," she whispered as she stood, not really meaning for him to hear. He did.

"Yes, look at us, Marguerite," he said, standing as well, trying in vain to see Marguerite's face as she turned her back on him. "Don't you see how different we all are, how good we are for each other? I don't understand why you won't accept that, why you keep trying to push me away no matter how many times I prove that I love you."

"Because I can't -" Marguerite stopped herself, pressing her fingers to her lips. Cursing her traitorous eyes for watering, she hoped he hadn't noticed her voice breaking.

He didn't understand and she had no way of making him do so. To him everything was as it had been a few days ago. To her, nothing would be the same again. The world had changed while he lay ignorant of it.

"You can't do what?" He moved closer, lowering his voice. Again he had to fight the urge to reach out for her. "Marguerite, what can't you do?"

It was a long time before Marguerite spoke, so long in fact that Roxton began to fear she wouldn't say anything at all. He waited her out, allowing the pressure of the silence to grow. Watching closely, he felt hope as she worried her lip between her teeth and shifted on her feet.

"I - I can't trust you." Roxton tensed, barely holding back an outraged cry as she continued. "There's nothing you or I can do to change that. I was broken a long time ago." She chuckled bitterly. "It's not just my soul that's tarnished, and it's not just you, John. I can't trust myself either."

Roxton took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm with the hope she would keep talking. "I don't understand."

"I can't..." she bit her lip, hesitating a moment before barrelling on. "I can't trust myself not to say or do something to ruin what we have, for something from my past to finally break us and I can't trust you not to finally realize you can do better... and leave me altogether."

"Oh, Marguerite, is that what you think? You saved my life in more ways than one. How could I possibly do better? I would never leave you."

"You will. One way or another you will. You could die so easily or finally tire of me."

"Well, I can't promise not to ever die, but you've kept me on my toes for the better part of four years. What makes you think I'd get tired of you now?"

"Sooner or later everyone does."

"Then it's because they didn't understand you."

Marguerite didn't answer and her posture didn't relax in the least.

"There's more you're worried about, isn't there?" Roxton sighed.

Marguerite nodded, but didn't elaborate. She knew he wouldn't believe her if she told him what happened during her quest to get him medicine. He didn't believe in spirits as easily as he should and certainly didn't put faith in visions of the future… but she did.

He could think of nothing to say to make it right. Only time and patience would win her trust. It had already won a great deal and he would not give up.

Roxton placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Her expression was miserable and her eyes guarded. It hurt him to see it and to only guess at the reason for it. If he ever found the scoundrel who broke her heart, he would break the man's head.

"You saved my life," he said, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek. "I promise you, Marguerite, I'll always be here for you. I've seen your best and your worst... even with a head cold," he said in mock horror, smiling as she laughed. He kissed her forehead gently. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere."

Marguerite watched him guardedly and made no other reply than to say, "We should head back if you're feeling well enough. The others will be worried."

XXXXXXX

The walk back to the tree house was silent but for the crunch of grit beneath their boots. They moved as they usually did, with Roxton in front and Marguerite behind.

They had not gone very far when Roxton first felt the pressure of attention on his back. He turned to see Marguerite watching him with a strange expression on her face. He couldn't interpret it, but it was full of a sadness he couldn't explain. It looked as though her heart had broken.

Feeling an impulse, Roxton held out his hand, watching her slip her mask of neutrality back in place. Her eyes remained unguarded though. She hesitated a long while. Hoping, sensing something just beyond his understanding was running through her head, he held his breath while her beautiful eyes moved between his face and waiting hand.

Expression still blank with an undercurrent of sadness, she took the offered appendage. He smiled encouragingly at her, but the slight tilt of her lips was fleeting.

He had just opened his mouth to ask again what was wrong, why she felt so afraid though he was fine now, when a twig snapped in the distance. Quickly ducking behind some foliage, fearful of another attack from slavers, Roxton and Marguerite waited in silent agitation. However, after a few minutes of waiting their anxiety dissipated and they breathed a sigh of relief.

"Veronica, I really think we should backtrack again," said Finn, her voice filtering from between the trees. They were getting closer, moving parallel to the path Marguerite and Roxton were taking. "I don't think they'd give up after just one attack. Slavers can be very determined."

"Finn... Veronica," Roxton shouted. He moved to meet them, Marguerite close behind.

Both blondes turned in surprise to the familiar voice. Their eyes widened in concern when they saw Roxton's bandaged arm.

"Where have you been?" asked Veronica then, noticing Marguerite's significantly more worn appearance, she couldn't help a double take. Finn was likewise taken aback and gave a loud exclamation.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Marguerite smiled grimly, well aware she was filthy and covered in blood. "It's been a long couple of days."

"Days?" Finn raised an incredulous brow. "Marguerite, you guys have been gone about a week and a half."

Veronica nodded. "We were about to give up on finding you."

"Sorry, but the days sort of blend together when you're held prisoner in a slave camp inside a half-excavated pyramid."

"What?"

"Can we do this while we walk? I'd like to get back to the tree house this year," said Marguerite, waving an impatient hand.

The others nodded, smiling. Veronica took the lead with Roxton bringing up the rear.

"Well," said Finn lightly after a moment, her usual bounce in her step, "you'll never guess what happened to us."

XXXXXXX

"And you're sure they didn't mention why they were after this key?" asked Veronica. She and the rest of the tree house occupants sat around the kitchen table, the remnants of dinner already cleared. A bottle of fruity alcohol, the result of a recent trade with the Amazons, sat in the middle of the table. It was almost empty, everyone at various stages of finishing their nightcaps.

Roxton had explained during dinner what he remembered of his days away, turning the storytelling over to Marguerite when his memory failed. However, she was not ready to explain all that she'd seen. Considering the heartache and dreamlike quality of her adventure, she didn't think she'd ever be ready to give details.

In the end, she spun a simple tale in which it seemed she'd done little more than take a long walk. Their capture and escape from the slavers was puffed up to seem the only adventure worthy of repeating.

Roxton didn't contradict her while she told her story, but Marguerite sensed his watchful gaze and knew he saw through her nonchalance. He would ask her about it and though she trusted him with her life, her journey had revealed some things too deeply personal for her to tell.

Sooner or later she would have to tell him the truth, would have to break his heart, but not tonight. She wanted to enjoy his company for a little longer. She knew it was selfish, just as she'd always known it was selfish to encourage him, but she couldn't help it. As soon as she could, she'd then asked Challenger to go over his story again.

"They had a limited vocabulary. I would have remembered if they mentioned it. All they could tell me was that it was gold and round." Remembering his suspicions about the key, Challenger turned to Marguerite. "And you're sure you have no idea what this thing is or where it might be?"

Marguerite frowned. "I don't know where every bit of gold on this bloody Plateau is. If I did, I would be in very different surroundings, I assure you."

"Come on, Marguerite," said Veronica, "some creatures show up out of the blue looking for a ball of gold and you're really going to sit there and tell us you have no idea what they're talking about or why they singled out the tree house to look for it?"

Luckily too exhausted to get into a real argument over her hurt feelings, Marguerite threw up her hands instead. "I swear I've never seen a gold sphere in my life."

Finn yawned loudly. "I believe you, Marguerite. Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I'm ready for bed. See you in the morning." Marguerite seconded that and the two disappeared downstairs.

XXXXXXX

She had just finished brushing and braiding her hair for bed when Marguerite turned to see John at her doorway. He looked a bit sheepish to have been caught watching her, but entered with his usual confidence, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

Subtly, so that he wouldn't notice, Marguerite shifted a kerchief on her dresser over the pendant Kartas gave her. She didn't particularly want to share that bit of the story with anyone nor did she want to wear the thing. Something about made her skin tingle.

"You would tell us, wouldn't you?" he asked. Marguerite quirked a brow at him and he clarified. "If you had this key or knew where to find it?"

"I suppose I deserve that." Still, she felt justified if there was perhaps a little bitterness in her voice.

"I trust you with my life," John assured her, "but I know how you are with treasure."

"Yes," she sighed, "considering the danger, I would tell you." She looked at him, wondering if he would ask again if she had anything she shouldn't. He didn't.

Giving a slight nod, Roxton leaned down and kissed her briefly, his attention no longer on her but on his own thoughts.

Marguerite smiled, amused by his faraway look as he left her room for his own. Adorable, she thought. No doubt he would ponder over the mystery of their monstrous visitors for many days to come.

As she settled down to sleep, Marguerite sighed. Not much was right with the world, but it would have to do.

The End


	3. A Wedge

Page 38/38

"Marguerite?" Finn asked. She sat high in a nut tree, grabbing up whatever was in reach and tossing it into a basket that lay at the base of the giant plant. Marguerite was likewise settled in an adjacent tree, harvesting large pods for the high-protein seeds inside. It would be a useful and tasty supplement to their food stores once prepared and though she wasn't partial to the means of collecting the pods, she did enjoy the end result.

"Yes?" Marguerite continued picking, not bothering to turn and look at Finn.

"Tell me about your life in Paris."

Marguerite almost lost her balance in shock. "Pardon?" She twisted around to see Finn, but the younger girl was innocently plucking nuts from the branch above her.

"Paris. I've never been there, but my aunt used to tell me stories of what it used to be like... before Zoth."

"I see." Marguerite's eyes scrutinized Finn, suspecting that the question had little to do with fond memories. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything. When did you go to France?"

"The last time I was there was about sixteen years ago."

"Why did you go?"

Marguerite smiled at the transparent nonchalant way Finn asked her question. She couldn't help but be amused. So Marguerite answered honestly. "I had nowhere else to go and I thought I might be able to make some money there."

"What did you do?"

Marguerite shrugged. "I was hired as a seamstress for a little while then worked in a bar. I don't recommend it."

"Were you a waitress?" Finn pushed, taking advantage of Marguerite's sharing mood.

"Waitress, bartender, janitor," Marguerite sighed, "singer, and anything else that was needed."

Finn tried not to giggle, but a smile broke out. "You sang?"

With a laugh, Marguerite chucked one of the pods she had just picked at Finn. She missed and it fell to the ground. "I never said I sang well."

"No wonder you had to marry rich men." Unlike the rest of the tree house residents, Finn referenced Marguerite's choice in men and desire for wealth without a hint of judgement. Marguerite thought the attitude refreshing. "What was it like living there?"

Marguerite paused, thinking of a way to sum up her life in France. There was only one word that seemed to fit. It seemed to apply to her life in general. "Difficult."

"How?"

Marguerite sighed and reached up to continue picking. "Money wasn't very easy to come by and what you did get, you were hard pressed to keep. Everything was dirty and most of the places were dangerous for a woman to be wandering alone."

"How long did you stay there?"

"I don't remember exactly, but at least a year that time."

"That time?"

Marguerite smiled and, feeling generous, elaborated. "I was in France for a short while as a child as well."

"I thought you were an orphan."

"I am."

"But," Finn hesitated, for all her nonchalance when it came to social graces, she knew this would be a sensitive subject for anyone, "then how did you get to France as a child and without any money?" she asked, stopping her chore to look at Marguerite.

Marguerite had also stopped picking, but didn't answer right away. It wasn't because she didn't intend to answer. It was because she had never asked herself that and could not think of a response.

She had no memory of leaving the convent that ran the orphanage near Avebury. It seemed her memory had a large gap in it. One day she was in the English convent - she could distinctly remember her last day of school - and then she was in Paris, running away.

"Marguerite?" It seemed Marguerite had taken too long. Her gaze focussed once more on Finn and the present.

"I'm sorry, Finn. I don't remember."

Finn's brow puckered as she took in Marguerite's confused, unfocussed expression. "You don't remember anything?"

"No. Not at all."

"Isn't that a little strange? You seem to have a good memory."

But the moment of honesty had passed and Marguerite shook her head, deliberately hiding her disturbance. "No, it's not strange. I suppose it's just not something I bothered to remember."

XXX

Veronica just finished putting the last of the lunch dishes away when she heard voices in the distance. She paused to listen and then smiled. It was easy to recognize Finn's enthusiasm even from a distance. The trees muffled the sound too much to know what they were talking about, but it sounded as though Finn were trying to be persuasive.

Roxton looked up from where he'd spread out the guns to be cleaned. His early morning hunting trip had been successful, leaving him plenty of time to finish his other chores. "I wonder if we should prepare some coffee to soften Marguerite up," he said, thinking of the brunette's short fuse when it came to arguments.

Veronica had moved to the balcony and listened carefully. "I think we'll be all right. I don't hear any screaming so maybe Finn hasn't irritated her too much."

"That might be a bit much to hope," he said, but bent over once more to attend to the guns.

"Actually," said Veronica thoughtfully, "I'm surprised how well those two get along. Better than Marguerite and I did at first."

Finn and Marguerite's voices continued outside. The sound of equipment being shuffled suggested they were organizing something or other before coming upstairs.

"Or still," said Roxton with a smile. "Face it, you two are like oil and water."

"It's been better."

"It has." Roxton was grateful for that.

"Well, mostly." Veronica remembered her homecoming after she was entangled with the damaged balloon. Her return had unfortunately coincided with Death's games with Roxton. Veronica had yet to ask for an explanation, but something about the disappearance of her friends had triggered an extremely pessimistic response in Marguerite that prompted Veronica to lash out as well.

Roxton paused in his work and asked her, "Did you ever think the reason you two don't get along is because you're actually the same?"

"What?" She laughed at the idea.

"I don't mean in the details, but essentially."

"We are not the same." There was a definite edge to Veronica's voice. She forced herself to release the frown from her expression, but it was difficult.

"You have strong ideals and so does she."

Veronica snorted.

"She does. They might be hidden and somewhat fluctuating, but they're there and they're mostly good. You've lost people you love and so has she. You both are loyal, brave, intellectual, forward-thinking women. It's just that neither one of you is willing to bend in a conflict or when you disagree on the means to a desired end."

Shrugging and seriously thinking about it, Veronica returned to the kitchen. She began pulling out the jars and containers that would be needed to store the supplies Marguerite and Finn had been sent to collect. Roxton returned to his guns with a grin in place.

The elevator was activated about five minutes later, their conversation becoming clearer. Finn was indeed trying to be persuasive, but it wasn't about anything in particular and it wasn't an argument with Marguerite.

"I mean, why would you build something like that if you didn't intend to use it?"

"I suppose," said Marguerite, her tone calm and placating, "but it's impossible to know everything. Maybe the government knew something the general public didn't. It happens all the time."

"I just don't think building bombs that render everything lifeless and infertile are a good idea and if you people learn anything from me, I think it should be that nuclear bombs aren't going to do you any good."

The elevator came to a stop and the women got out, taking their sacks of goods to the kitchen. Finn waved to Roxton and Marguerite paused long enough to smile sweetly at him.

"You might want to tell Challenger that. I'm afraid I have nothing to do with making bombs."

"But you were a spy. If you get back, your government will listen to you just as much as Challenger."

Marguerite chuckled. "You're giving me more credit than I deserve."

Roxton looked after them curiously and even Veronica raised a brow as they came into sight.

"What are you two talking about?" Veronica asked.

"Finn was filling me in about some of her history... or our future. Sounds like we sort of deserve what we get."

"How can you say that?" Veronica said, horrified. She helped sort the foodstuffs, storing the nuts and roots in sealed containers to keep out moisture. They would start processing fruit soon as well.

Marguerite gave a humourless smile and even Finn's lips twisted grimly. Though she had hated the world she lived in, she knew enough about humanity's history to know everything that had been done had been completely avoidable and was the product of greed and stupidity. The people who had to live through the hard times may not have deserved their fate, but their predecessors who led the world to destruction had never garnered sympathy from Finn's mind. Even as a child she had wondered how her ancestors could have condemned their own heirs to such horrors.

"People do horrible things to each other. I don't need to be from the future to know that," said Marguerite.

"Still, I can't imagine anyone deserving such a hard life."

Shrugging, Marguerite didn't answer. She helped put away the foodstuffs and then went to the main room to gather the day's laundry. Roxton was just putting away the guns as she got everything ready to take out for a wash.

"Want some company?" Roxton asked, though he intended to come along whether she wanted him to or not. Although they hadn't seen any time distortions since the day of the storm, Roxton didn't like having people go out alone and he especially didn't like having Marguerite out of his sight. Luckily, he wouldn't have to force his company on her.

Marguerite smiled. "Of course. You can wash your own socks."

XXXXXXX

After the laundry was done, Marguerite consented to helping Roxton gather firewood and sat outside with him while he chopped the bigger pieces.

While at the water, lathering and rinsing the laundry, Marguerite had felt Roxton's eyes on her several times. She had turned once or twice and confirmed that along with watching out for danger and helping with the odd pair of socks, he spent a good deal of time gazing at her. Had it been another man watching, she may have shown them her ire, but as it was Roxton and his expression was soft, not leering, she found it flattering.

Anger at his impertinence had been so far from her mind that she had even enjoyed the attention, taking her time as she leaned over for another item. She let herself linger while outstretched for this or that, cool water making its way down her arms. Beads of sweat and water lined her brow and exposed skin where she wiped a weary hand. She had felt the pressure of his attention increase as she felt a droplet make its way down her neck and further down into the valley between her breasts.

Her smile had been irrepressible as John shuffled his feet and slowly tore his eyes away.

Now it was her turn to stare.

Roxton swung the axe up and brought it down with excellent precision, his glistening muscles bared for all the world to see. His shirt lay next to Marguerite, whose job it was to gather and bring up what he chopped.

It amazed her how she couldn't look away. Usually she was immune to the physical attractiveness of men or at least very hard to so wholly impress. Though she could easily - and had several times before - play with the male ego by flirting and pretending attraction, she had rarely felt consuming desire. It coursed through her now.

Roxton wiped a hand over his face and through his hair, the movement stretching and displaying his body in a way that made Marguerite fidget. Just in time to avoid being caught, she looked down and pretended to be cleaning her nails.

Unsuspecting, Roxton assumed he had imagined the feel of eyes watching him and turned back to his task.

It wasn't long though before he felt it again and he turned soon enough to catch Marguerite looking. A grin spread across his face as he recognized her expression. It was subtle, but there. Her eyes were wide and pupils dilated as they fixed on him. Others might not have recognized the look for what it was, but he knew it so well that it couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Though he couldn't recall seeing it on Marguerite's face too often, he had seen other women with it.

Tempted to tease and yet afraid that it would drive Marguerite further into her shell, Roxton chose to only smile and return to work. Though he felt the weight of her gaze several more times after that, he held himself in check and didn't turn around. It was enough for him to know that her feelings were leaning in the same direction as his own.

Together they took the last pile of firewood up to the tree house, Roxton donning his shirt once more so Marguerite wouldn't feel discomfort while they stood close together in the elevator.

"John?" she said as the elevator rose, her voice only just above a whisper.

"Yes?" His tone was soft and warm, inviting her to ask or say whatever she desired. He rather hoped it would be something admiring.

Marguerite wrinkled her nose at him. "You smell horrible."

John laughed and so did she. He nudged her side gently, careful as they both had their arms full of rough firewood. "You're not smelling like a bed of roses yourself, but I didn't complain."

"You just did."

"Well, then how about we go for a swim? We've put in a full day. I'd say we deserve it."

Marguerite smiled. "Sounds like a wonderful idea."

XXXXXXX

"Roxton," Veronica called down the stairs towards the sleeping quarters of the tree house an hour later. She and Finn had just returned from gardening, only to find the tree house empty. "Marguerite?"

Finn came bounding up the stairs from the laboratory. "Challenger says Roxton and Marguerite went for a swim. Do you want to join them?"

Veronica wiped a bead of sweat from her neck. "Sure. Why not?"

With a quick shout down to Challenger about where they were going, Finn and Veronica took off after the first couple, eager for a chance to cool off.

The trail was fairly quiet as the two girls made their way swiftly closer to the river, but there was nothing unusual about that. The tree house occupants went so often to the river that their path was obvious and their continually renewed scent enough to keep away prey animals. As for the predators, they went where there was plentiful food and since they rarely caught a snack on the humans' well-worn paths, they tended to keep to denser jungle.

It was an unexpected sound in the quiet that alerted the two women to something unusual. A flock of birds in the distance took off, flying over their heads as they called to each other and sought safer roosts in the trees. Their wings beat furiously, as reliable an alarm call as anything else.

Veronica and Finn froze, listening and watching for any other signs of danger.

From the same direction that the birds had come, rose a horrible shrieking.

"Raptors," said Veronica, pulling out one of her knives. Beside her Finn was already loading a bolt into her crossbow.

Just as they were ready to make a dash for safer territory, a woman's terror-filled scream rent the air. It had come from the same area as the raptor's calls.

Finn and Veronica took off towards the sound. They ignored the feel of twigs and spider webs pulling at them as they ran through the underbrush.

Not even a minute later and they found a woman being circled by two raptors. The predatory lizards moved in a steady circle, getting closer and closer to their prey as they assessed her defences. The source of their caution was in the woman's hand. A roughly-hewn spear trembled in her filthy hands. Veronica doubted the woman would have the strength to do much with the weapon, but it had served its purpose in keeping the animals at bay.

With barely a sound, Veronica and Finn snuck closer. Taking careful aim lest she hit the woman, Veronica threw her knife into the neck of one of the raptors. It fell to the ground with a cry of surprise and pain. Its mate, a colourful male looked from the two newcomers to its dead companion and then took off.

Veronica quickly went to the frightened woman's side. As she had suspected, the woman dropped the spear, her arms shaking too badly to hold on to it anymore.

Finn was a bit more cautious and approached with her crossbow still ready to shoot. She watched from a few feet away as Veronica placed a calm hand on the stranger's shoulder and soothed her.

The woman was beautiful even at first glance. Her hair was black, thick and silky and straighter than a taught wire. Her skin was not terribly dark, but enough so to make her almond-shaped eyes striking. Finn's first impression was that the woman was part Asian. She wore a simple green top and long skirt, similar to what the women of Assai's village wore. Though the fabric lacked any real beauty, the way it clung to the woman's curves and billowed out enough to allow easy movement was extremely flattering and practical.

"Thank you, so much," said the woman in a sweet, though trembling voice once she had calmed enough to talk again. "If you hadn't come along..."

"It's okay," said Veronica with a kindly smile.

"What are you doing out here alone?" asked Finn. She ignored the frown Veronica gave her. Do these people not learn? You can't trust anyone you meet, she thought with irritation. But if the woman thought Finn was rude, then she didn't show it.

"I was separated from my people. We were looking for other villages to trade with when a group of strange men attacked us two nights ago. My father shouted at me to run. I didn't stop for so long that I got completely turned around," she finished, her voice breaking as tears rolled down her flushed cheeks.

Veronica soothed the woman as best as she could until the tears began to ebb. "Why don't you come with us? It's too late in the day to search for your people now, but we can start fresh in the morning."

"You would do that for me?" The woman's large eyes grew wider in wonder.

Veronica smiled. "Of course." She helped the woman stand and led the way back to the tree house with Finn guarding their backs with her trusty cross bow. "What's your name?"

"Liana," said the woman.

"I'm Veronica, and that's Finn."

Finn nodded, but kept her eyes roving over the foliage.

Veronica struck out for a neutral topic to keep Liana's mind off her trauma. "Do all your people speak English?"

Liana chuckled. "No. That's why they bring me with them to trade. I learned it as a child from a stranger passing through our territory."

"Who was the stranger?"

"I don't know. He claimed to be a wanderer, but I thought he was too well dressed to be a nomad. He stayed only long enough to teach me his language and told me to practice since I might need it one day."

"What was his name?"

"Remornd. Because of the tricks he showed the children, we called him Remornd the Magician."

Veronica thought a moment, Liana smirking when she looked away. "I don't recognize the name."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Liana whispered to herself.

XXXXXXX

Liana was at the table, eating a bit of bread and jam with gusto when Roxton and Marguerite returned. They stopped in their tracks once they saw her.

"Who are you?" Roxton asked, not terribly concerned by the presence of the brunette but wary. Without realizing it, he moved in front of Marguerite, who peered around him.

"Liana. I met Veronica and Finn – or, rather, they saved me from some raptors today."

Roxton relaxed a bit and put away his hat and weapons. Marguerite did the same as Veronica appeared from the kitchen, a mixing bowl and spoon in hand.

"Oh, good. I was starting to think you two wouldn't get back before dinner."

"So," said Marguerite, "what's going on?" It didn't escape her notice how Liana's gaze followed Roxton with more than a little interest. She frowned, but chose not to comment.

"Liana was separated from her family during a raid by slavers. We're going to try following her trail back to her people tomorrow." Veronica returned to the kitchen. "Be ready to camp."

Roxton nodded and disappeared downstairs, presumably to pack. Marguerite sighed, but didn't say anything and trailed after him.

Liana's narrowed eyes followed them.

XXXXXXX

Finn and Marguerite cleaned the table and did the dishes that night. Finn washed as Marguerite dried. They were almost done by the time Finn worked up enough courage to mention something she had noticed since she first saw Liana and Roxton interact.

"Marguerite?"

"Yes, Finn?"

"I don't mean to be nosy, but did you notice anything unusual at dinner?"

"Besides Challenger's atrocious table manners?" He'd read one of his journals the whole time and made quite the mess with his fork missing his mouth all too often. "Not really, why?"

"So, it doesn't bother you that our newest guest didn't take her eyes off Roxton the entire night?"

"Oh, that. Not really." She put another dish away. "I'll admit it's a bit irritating, but she'll be gone in a day or two and John didn't seem terribly interested."

"He was... polite."

"What did you expect?" said Marguerite, her unconcerned tone hiding the play of her own mildly anxious thoughts. Truth be told, the turn of the dinner conversations had concerned her.

Finn persisted. She didn't understand how the others could let their guard down so quickly. She had expected at least Roxton and Marguerite to be suspicious. "And you're sure you don't mind having her here?"

One elegant hand put the last dish away and then Marguerite turned to face Finn. On the one hand, she was glad the girl was more careful than their other co-habitants. However, that also meant it was difficult to handle things in her own subtle way.

"I don't trust her either, but like I said, she won't be here long."

As Finn and Marguerite talked in the kitchen, Veronica read on the couch, Challenger puttered around his lab, and Roxton gathered a few bits of clothing for their trip the next day. He rolled up a spare pair of pants and put it into his pack.

Feeling eyes on his back, Roxton turned to see Liana at his doorway. She smiled sweetly at him and he found himself returning it.

"What can I do for you?"

Liana chuckled and entered the room. Without invitation, she sat on the edge of his bed and peered into his pack. "Nothing right now, Lord Roxton. I just wanted some company and to thank you for your help."

"We haven't found your people yet."

"No, but I appreciate everything you have already done for me."

"Not at all." He put a shirt into the bag. As the bag was next to Liana, this brought him within inches of her. A feminine hand came to rest on his.

He looked up and found Liana was leaning over, her beautiful face close to his. Roxton froze, his eyes locked on hers. His brain seemed to overload as he tried to think of how to gently disentangle himself from the situation. Then, he noticed her eyes.

For a moment there seemed something terribly familiar about those eyes. Caught in a half-forming thought, he didn't retreat.

"Roxton?" Marguerite's voice came from the hallway. He stood straight, putting distance between himself and Liana just in time. Marguerite stopped at his doorway, her eyes wide with surprise at seeing Liana on his bed. She looked between them and Roxton found himself cursing his fair skin, certain that he was blushing. Her eyes narrowed and she disappeared from his sight with a spin on her heel.

"Marguerite, wait." Roxton went after her. Behind him, Liana smiled.

"I don't want to hear it, Roxton."

"Please, I didn't -"

"What you do or don't do doesn't concern me, Lord Roxton. I'm not your mother and I thank God for that."

Roxton grabbed Marguerite's arm, forcing her to stop. "It wasn't what you think."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. Why would you say that?"

Marguerite folded her arms and refused to answer, her body turned away from him.

With a sigh, Roxton placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. "You know I would never betray you," he said softly. "I love you."

A tiny, reticent smile grew on Marguerite's lips. "I know." She leaned into his arms, letting her ear rest over his heart - his good, strong heart. The stranger would be gone soon. It was a great comfort for Marguerite to repeat that mantra over in her mind.

Despite her assertion, betrayal had been just what she'd feared and in a very small masochistic way hoped for. It was the result of old habits and she firmly pushed the ungenerous feelings away. They sat in a corner of her mind though, revolving and poking at her the rest of the evening.

XXXXXXX

"What?" Marguerite asked.

A moment before, she had been leaning into Roxton's side, content and even happy as they sat on the balcony, watching the stars. Now, she felt herself stiffening under the arm that rested lightly on her shoulders.

He was staring at her. Even without looking she knew he was and when she did look, his tensed expression made her wary. His face became neutral then, but she'd already seen what he hadn't wanted her to.

Roxton smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing."

"John, you're not a good enough liar. Why were you looking at me like that?"

"I was just thinking."

Rolling her eyes, Marguerite gave an exasperated sigh, which elicited an honest if brief grin from John. "Obviously. What about?"

"You won't like it," he said. More to the point, he wouldn't like admitting to it.

Marguerite frowned at him. It was visible even in the darkness.

"Fine." Internally he grimaced even before the words were out of his mouth. "I was wondering if you were going to try putting distance between us."

She blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Every time we get closer, you start to pull away," he said, echoing what he had said to her prior to their flight through the jungle from the Conquistadors. As he had feared, Marguerite sat up, leaving his side feeling cold.

"I don't know what you're talking about." But she did and with his reminder, all her reasons for that distance rushed back, spoiling the moment.

"You're doing it right now," he said, indicating the space she'd just created, "and downstairs with our guest, you jumped to conclusions like you were waiting for an excuse to dismiss me. How big a fool do you think I am?"

"Maybe it's for a good reason."

"Are you still having doubts about... how I feel?" he asked.

Marguerite shook her head. "No, I'm doubting how right it is to encourage you."

"Of course it's all right," he said.

It took Marguerite a while to organize her thoughts and figure out how honest she was going to be with John. In the end, she grudgingly decided he deserved to know at least some of how she felt. Besides, he would obviously continue to push until he received an acceptable answer.

"I know I send you mixed messages and I'm sorry."

His heart began beating rapidly, excited by her opening up and frightened by what she might say. Her words already sounded too much like a dismissal for his sanity. "Then tell me why."

"I want to love you and I do." She hesitated and then spoke what she'd been thinking on and off about for a long time. It would hurt him and she knew it, but maybe it was time to explain. "You should have taken my rebuffs to heart," she whispered. "You say you believe otherwise, but I know we can't be together."

"What do you mean? Are you still thinking I'll tire of you or that something from your past will cause problems?" What he wouldn't give to know what her past was, what was going on in her complicated head, and what happened to her when she'd left him in Kartas' hands to find him medicine. It may not be the key to her heart and mind, but he had a feeling it had a great deal to do with her most recent distant demeanour. However, no matter how many times he'd asked, she'd refused to tell him the whole story. Just like the rest of her life.

"It's too dangerous. For a while I forgot - I thought we could make it work." Marguerite fell silent, an acute emotion causing her chest to tighten and traitorous tears to rise.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Marguerite. Neither of us have safe lives out here. What makes you worry so much? We've survived a great deal already. What more do you fear?"

"Why? You ask me why?" She laughed bitterly, her heartache making her feel weak and vulnerable, which made her temper prickle. "Right. As though we're completely safe out here. I shouldn't worry you might do something stupid trying to be a hero, or that history will repeat itself. And back home? What about when we get back to England?"

Roxton didn't dare voice it, but he silently thought it more a question of if they returned, not when.

"There are things - I couldn't stay even if you wanted me to."

"What are you talking about? Of course I want you to," he said softly. "Don't you want to stay with me?"

"I can't, John. No matter what I want, we can't have a future together. It's been proven time and time again. Maybe it's time I took that lesson to heart."

"Don't say that." He remembered a ghost taking the form of her dead friend Adrienne. The false Adrienne mentioned Marguerite's doubts. He'd forgotten it almost immediately, but now wished he'd questioned the apparition further. "It's something that's been hanging over you for a long time, isn't it? What is it, Marguerite? Why do you deny us... deny yourself happiness?"

"As much as I want to return to England, it's dangerous for me there. It's dangerous for me everywhere." She drew a deep breath. "I can't be anything more than a memory to you when we return, John. I'm sorry."

"No matter what it is, I'll protect you. If they want money, I have money."

"Some things aren't about money."

"Xan has his prize. He won't come after you again and if anyone else does, then we'll run. We can tour the world, change our names, and do anything we need to. I won't let them hurt you."

"It's not me I'm worried about. John, there is no escape from these people, not forever. Xan was the least of my worries. At least he had a price I could pay. These others... I won't allow you to give up everything for me and I won't allow you to die for me if I can help it."

"Then we'll stay here on the Plateau," he said, unsurprised that the idea made him feel uplifted. "It's not that bad. What are a few dinosaurs or madmen compared to the rest of the world?"

"That's not the - It doesn't matter. This jungle fling -"

"Fling? Is that what you think this is?"

"- can't last. It has to end."

"Stop saying that," he cried in frustration, heart twisting painfully.

"It's true," said Marguerite, her own voice rising an octave as her resolve firmed. "We come from two different worlds and no matter how well we delude ourselves while we piddle about in the middle of an Amazon jungle, we'll have to go back to our respective places when we return."

"That doesn't have to happen. It won't." He was well aware his plea was pitiful. Marguerite knew it too, but she hardened her heart against it. There was no turning back now.

"Like it or not, you can't keep me chained to you like a dog. I will leave you because it's the best thing for you."

"The best thing for me? The best thing for me?" They were both shouting now, heedless of their travelling voices and the hurt they were causing each other.

"Yes!"

"You don't know what's best for yourself let alone anyone else." Her eyes narrowed at that.

"I know better than you what's out there waiting for us."

"I don't need you to protect me."

"Someone has to, you stubborn jackass."

Downstairs, Veronica and Finn paused their own more friendly discussion to listen, but there was only so much they could hear through the wood.

"So tell me what to watch out for."

"You can't be on your guard for the rest of your life. You have an estate to run, a life to live."

"And you'll leave me... just like that?"

"In a heartbeat," she hissed.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't say that," he said, hoping she would take it back or refute his statement.

"Be that as it may..."

"You know," his grip on her arm turned painful as his temper boiled over, "I'm starting to doubt you have a heart."

"Maybe it just doesn't beat for you."

"I knew you had to do some horrible things to help England in the war, but I didn't think you became as bad as the people you fought against until now."

"I'd like to see you last five minutes with some of the people I've crossed paths with. They don't play by any rules like you seem to think they would. They'd kill you on sight."

"I've lasted pretty well up until this point."

"Yeah, well, then you can continue on... alone."

"Well, if it's so easy for you to just brush me aside, then maybe we should end this right now."

"Fine by me. Go to hell." Marguerite ripped her arm from his white-knuckled grasp and stormed down to her room.

Alone in the dark, she froze in her tracks, astounded at what had just happened. A hand rose to her mouth to muffle her sobs.

On the balcony, John stormed around for a few minutes until the heat of sudden anger left him. He felt cold and empty, and bewildered. He wasn't sure exactly what just happened.

He went downstairs for bed and paused at Marguerite's door. His hand rose to knock, but he changed his mind and listened instead. There was silence from inside. With a frown, Roxton's fist bumped his leg a few times as he thought.

He then continued on to his own room where he spent a sleepless night replaying their argument over and over in his mind.

XXXXXXX

Breakfast the next morning was strained. Roxton and Marguerite avoided each other and the others didn't know what to do or say. They'd heard the shouting, but not all of the words and so had no idea how bad it had been. Their only way to guess was by how long it would take the couple to be on speaking terms again. From the looks of things, it would be a bit.

Once they were done eating, they grabbed their things for the search for Liana's people. Both Finn and Marguerite couldn't help thinking that the sooner they accomplished this task, the better.

"If we're lucky," Roxton said to Liana, who stood watching the controlled chaos at his side, "your people will have followed your trail and they shouldn't be too far off."

Liana smiled, but it was sad. She batted her lashes at him, looking enough like a damsel in distress that Marguerite, who was listening behind them, rolled her eyes. "That might be too much to hope for. I just want to see them alive and well." She looked around at the foursome. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you would help. It is rare to find people willing to go so far out of their way to help a stranger."

"It's no trouble at all," Roxton assured her, smiling kindly, shadows still in his expression. He didn't notice as she drew closer to him, though the other women certainly did. His mind was still partly occupied with thinking of last night's argument and the repercussions of it.

"Yes, well, it seems we never have anything better to do," said Marguerite, her voice tight and scathing as she shouldered her pack, grabbed her rifle and headed for the elevator.

Veronica and Finn shared an uneasy glance as they finished packing and joined the brunette on the jungle floor.

Challenger seemed oblivious to the whole exchange and took up a conversation, questioning Liana on her people's history, sciences, and culture.

XXXXXXX

They started their search where Finn and Veronica had come across Liana first and then followed the trail she'd left during her panicked flight.

Veronica and Finn led the group, scanning ahead for danger as well as any signs of Liana's people. Though they were able to pick up their own trail and even Liana's without much difficulty, they soon realized that Liana must have travelled a great distance to escape her dangers. There was no sign of anyone else's passing for many miles and even then, it was only other animals.

It was a nice day, but cloudy and threatening rain so it wasn't terribly hot; a perfect day to look for specimens in Challenger's mind and that's exactly what he started to do. He chased after the heels of Finn and Veronica, whose steps stirred a variety of creatures from their hiding. In no time at all, Liana's own pace had slowed so that she walked alone, just a few feet before her intended target.

With a sigh, Marguerite took it upon herself to keep an eye on Challenger so he didn't get separated. It would be a tough and frustrating job, but it was something to keep her away from Roxton and busy enough not to dwell on her tumultuous thoughts.

This is what Liana exploited as she slowed her pace to fall into step with Roxton. It didn't take long for her to get the polite hunter chatting and her natural attractions allowed their conversation to grow lively and engrossing.

Every now and then Roxton's eyes flicked to Marguerite, wondering if she was jealous and hoping her jealousy would spur her towards himself. He didn't need to wonder if she was still perturbed with him. Her stiff posture told him that.

Oblivious to John's glances, Marguerite endured hearing his lively conversation with a hardening heart. Their laughter and snippets of the various topics they covered drifted up to Marguerite's ears as she helped Challenger and the more she heard, the less she wanted to, but the harder it was to tune them out. Not for the first time in her life, she desperately wished she could have lived someone else's life.

Before an hour of this had passed, she felt herself growing irritable and bitter, though she tried to keep from unleashing her bad temper on the others. That would only give away how she really felt when she should be feigning indifference if she was to convince Roxton to eventually move on. So, instead of exploding as she wished, she forced her feelings down. Still, she could feel them in a corner of her mind, boiling and growing.

She reminded herself that it was better to let him go now while she still could and resigned herself to watching Roxton and the new woman converse as though they were childhood friends.

"My, my," said Challenger to Marguerite as his gaze strayed after a colourful butterfly. Noticing his companion's frazzled and slightly pale state, he restrained himself from going after it. "I must say, this would have been a good day to collect specimens if we weren't already engaged."

"You've already nabbed more than enough unfortunate creatures for one day, George. I can't imagine what you'd bring home if you had a whole day."

Challenger laughed. "I daresay you're right. Still..." his gaze followed some crawly something or other, but he kept moving. "Oh well, what we're doing is more important than a few curiosities."

"Oh, sure," Marguerite huffed. "If we're not after one thing, we're after another. I'd like to know when we were voted the protectors of this entire Plateau. I thought that's what Veronica's mother is for."

"Well, I..." Challenger slowed, abandoning his searching for insects and blinked a few times, uncertain what to say. It had been a long time since Marguerite used that tone with him and it had come from nowhere. He was used to her sarcasm and bouts of ill temper when her patience was tested, but he could think of little to anger her at the moment.

Then, once his attention was no longer drifting aimlessly, he caught the voices drifting up from the rear of their troop.

Liana's voice was sweet and inviting, the kind of voice no man could ignore. "Lord Roxton -"

"Please," he looked to Marguerite quickly and back again, "call me John."

"John," said Liana with a smile and a giggle that even Challenger could see through, "where did you trade for your weapons?" Her fingers slid along the smooth wood of his rifle and he swallowed reflexively. "I've never seen their equal."

"From London, our home."

"Where is London?"

Challenger didn't pay attention to Roxton's answer or Liana's overly flirtatious reaction. His gaze was on Marguerite's stiff back, which was rapidly drawing closer to Finn and Veronica. "Oh."

It continued on like that for the rest of the day and even into the night. As they settled in a small circle of trees to make camp for the night, the division of the group showed itself more clearly.

Liana and Roxton immediately offered to refill the canteens and collect firewood, Roxton looking over to Marguerite before he left to see if her eyes were turned to him. They weren't. She was busying herself with her bag. He felt his hopes deflate.

As Roxton and Liana disappeared, the others were then left to set up the fire pit, set out the sleeping rolls and gather some food for dinner.

They had rations, but Finn spotted some fruit not too far away and eager to escape the tension of the camp, she dragged Veronica off as soon as she could.

Challenger started the fire and quickly became engrossed with examining his new specimens. This left Marguerite with too much free time. The silence draped over them like a heavy cloak. Not that Challenger noticed, but to Marguerite it was an oppressive weight to sit in silence with Roxton gone off with some floozy.

Marguerite could not think of Roxton and Liana without envy and jealousy and an embittering resignation.

It is best, she told herself. Even if she disliked the idea of Roxton finding love or even a fling so soon after herself, it was better than him chasing her now that she'd finally done the right thing. The right thing to do… She couldn't back out of that decision now.

She had to keep telling herself that or she'd run after John and start blubbering like a schoolgirl for him to take her back. That would not happen. She silently vowed that she would not be swayed this time. It is better, the right thing to do, she thought.

The right thing to do.

The silence was too much. Marguerite stood and left the camp, hoping a bit of splashing in the nearby river would help.

"I'm going to clean myself up, George."

"Be careful," was Challenger's distracted reply as he ogled some creepy crawly in his jar.

Marguerite rolled her eyes and disappeared into the jungle.

She didn't expect to see them, had expected that they were collecting firewood by now, but Liana and Roxton were still at the river when Marguerite drew near.

Roxton was cleaning the grime of the trail from his upper body, his shirt on the rocks where Liana waited. Her hair was wet and her clothes looked damp.

Marguerite stopped before they could sense her presence and hid behind some tall grass. She didn't want to listen to their conversation any more than she wanted to be near them, but she was afraid that if she moved, they'd realize she was there.

Feeling better now that he was cooled off and cleaner, Roxton moved to get his shirt, only to have it snatched out of reach by Liana. She grinned wickedly at him and held the clothing behind her back.

He grinned back, slightly intrigued by her play, but didn't go for it.

"What, don't you want your shirt back?" Liana taunted. She dangled it in front of him, her eyes dancing darkly.

"That would spoil your fun, wouldn't it?"

"My fun?" She gave a mock gasp of indignation. "Whatever do you mean, Lord Roxton?" His name was a purr on her lips.

"Well, obviously you prefer me out of my clothes."

Liana's gaze grew - if possible - even more suggestive. "And me? Would you prefer me out of mine?"

Marguerite didn't wait around to hear Roxton's answer. Her heart could take no more. No longer caring if she made noise or not, she fled from the river.

Roxton looked over at the sound of rustling grass, his face still blushing from the banter. He'd not meant for it to get so heated so quickly, but Liana was an aggressive player.

"Did I make you uncomfortable, Lord Roxton?" Liana asked, noticing his distraction even when he'd turned back to her. His eyes were no longer gleaming and his face lost its boyish amusement to a more solemn pensiveness.

Roxton tried to smile, but his thoughts were elsewhere now and he couldn't ignore that though Liana was a pretty girl, she wasn't the one he wanted. "No, not at all, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

Roxton remained silent and was about to suggest they head back to camp. They had plenty of firewood stocked on the riverbank to take back.

"Why don't we sit and you can tell me more of Avebury? I'd love to hear tales of your home."

Roxton smiled and obligingly sat next to her on the riverbank.

The whole group circled the campfire after dark had fallen and still Liana took up Roxton's attention.

Marguerite, resigned and hurt that he could get over her so quickly, didn't intervene. Instead, she hid in the shadows at the edge of their group, her eyes alternatively narrowing and pricking with repressed tears as Liana took every opportunity to get closer to and even touch Roxton. He did nothing to discourage it.

They hadn't bothered with tents so everyone spread a blanket around the fire, grateful that the cloudy sky had not opened up to rain. If their luck broke the next day, they would be forced to take shelter in a cave.

Finn, who was taking the first shift keeping an eye for danger, watched them all select their places much the way they chose walking partners.

Veronica and Challenger automatically clumped together close to where Finn would sleep and Roxton, who usually put his bedroll next to Marguerite, set it down on the other side of the fire from her. Everyone noticed, but no one commented. They didn't dare.

Liana planted herself right on the other side of him.

Finn startled at the move, thinking automatically that Liana took Marguerite's place. She noted Marguerite's turned back and huddled position and wondered what she and Roxton had fought about. It must have been big, she thought.

No one noticed how before she lay down, Liana turned to the forest, looking for someone or something, and nodded. Only a figure in the forest, one that had been watching a long time, saw this signal.

The man in the forest watched the explorers fall asleep and then he moved deeper into the dark jungle to wait for his associate.

She came sooner than he expected, a tribute to her skills that she could get away from their camp without being detected.

"Danielle." The man removed the hood, revealing the dark hair and sharp features of Locke. He smiled at the dark-haired woman with the large eyes. She smiled back.

"It worked perfectly," she said. "Not even Lord Roxton recognized me. If I can gather some of their personal treasures, I can have control over them in-"

"No." Locke's tone was firm, enough so that Danielle grew quiet immediately, her expression becoming wary. "None of your black magic. If you recall, it didn't work so well for you the last time."

"But they think I'm dead. They won't suspect it."

"No, we're doing this my way." Locke's dark eyes burned in the blackness. "You already compromised us with your improvisation. You can't play your little games with these people or you'll be discovered."

"What? The Remornd story? How will they possibly figure that one out?"

"They are clever and lucky. If they ever get a hint of what it really means then we may lose everything."

"I needed some story for them and I might as well have some fun."

"Yes, and if Lord Mordren ever hears that you used his name so carelessly, even with the letters rearranged, he won't hesitate to do to you what you did to your village... or worse. Neither will I for that matter."

Danielle grew still, sensing real danger in the threat. "Fine. No more games, but I still don't see why all this subterfuge is necessary. Between all of us, our powers could wipe them out in an instant."

Locke shook his head like he was explaining something to an infant. Not for the first time he wished he could do this with his usual cohorts. They at least took orders. This woman was all too likely to endanger everything if she couldn't control her wilder side. In a way, Danielle reminded him of Marguerite. He supposed that was why Lord Roxton had been so attracted to her during their short acquaintance.

"That's your objective, not mine and not Lord Mordren's and in any case, they're too well protected for that. So, until I say otherwise, we stick to the original plan. Drive Marguerite to me and you can turn the lot of them into your slaves and cut their throats if you wish, but Marguerite must be convinced."

Danielle grimaced.

"What?"

"That may be more difficult than you think. She and Roxton had some fight. It was bad, but she doesn't seem interested in leaving. You should just take her now, while you can and never mind having her come of her own will."

"Marguerite has to come to me willingly or she won't stay and for that to happen, she has to be convinced that Lord Roxton has given up on her, not that he's having a flight of fancy or being manipulated. She must think there's nothing left for her here."

"You said it yourself. Once she's immortal, her priorities will change. She'll follow you and Lord Mordren then."

Locke shook his head. "It won't be enough. She has a temper and it would keep her from me if I forced her into anything." He sighed and thought a long moment. "Fine, use some of your power and work things to your favour."

Danielle inclined her head respectfully.

"Just seduce the Lord Roxton and everything else will fall into place." Locke replaced the hood and Danielle turned to go. "You know what to do if that fails."

Treading carefully, Danielle returned to the camp, ready once more to take on the character of Liana.

Finn sat on a log, her gaze on the dark jungle around them, but were anyone to look closely at her, they'd see that her eyes were glazed and unmoving. Finn didn't so much as bat an eyelash as Liana passed and kneeled next to Roxton.

From the folds of her skirt, Liana took out a leather pouch and poured a bit of its contents - a mixture of powdered herbs and ash - into her palm. She whispered an incantation over the dust and when she was done, sprinkled it over Roxton's eyes. He stirred a bit, but didn't wake.

With Roxton done, she sprinkled some of the dust over Challenger, Veronica and then Finn and sat back to admire her work. In the morning they would all have a change of feeling towards Marguerite and herself.

On her right, Veronica rolled and let out a sigh as though waking up. Liana froze and waited until the girl was breathing deeply again. With a scowl she moved to stand over the Protector's daughter. "You could be too much trouble even with my spell," she whispered.

Looking around to make sure Locke wasn't around, Liana took another handful of dust and whispered over it.

"Slow death take hold and rob of all defences," she said, the magic of her will infusing the powder.

Liana raised her hand to drop the dust over Veronica, but before she could let it go, Challenger rolled in his sleep. Startled, Liana froze, her eyes on the elder man's face, but he didn't wake up.

Again, she raised her hand, but again she was forced to stop as an owl hooted on a branch just above their camp. She glared at it and it stared back at her with haunting yellow eyes. They seemed to narrow at her and she wondered if this was the protection Locke had mentioned. Was the very forest that seemed every day to try to harm the tree house group protecting them now?

Keeping her eyes on the owl, Liana tossed the dust into the fire and returned to her blanket. She consoled herself that this wouldn't be her last chance to get her vengeance. With a smile, she moved closer to the hunter so that if he moved only a few inches, she would be in his arms.

She smiled as John rolled a bit and his arm fell over her body.

It was in that position that Marguerite woke to see them in when it was her turn to keep watch. Luckily for everyone, Finn was still too dazed by Liana's spell to notice the intimate position or comment on the wetness in Marguerite's eyes.

XXXXXXX

The next morning was cloudy again. Ominous steely clouds hung low in the sky.

"I don't think we're going to escape the rain today," said Veronica, gazing up.

"Maybe we should just return to the tree house and we can start again when the weather clears," said Roxton as he rolled up Liana's blanket for her and put it in his pack. Behind him, Marguerite kept her eyes and head low, unable to look at him.

Finn agreed eagerly. The thought of someone new in the tree house seemed very agreeable. By now, the spell had worn off Finn, the newest one taking hold. All her doubts about their guest were gone, faded from mind. In its place was a strong desire to help and provide whatever the beautiful woman needed. The same could be said for Veronica. Challenger alone had little to be changed as he'd not yet formed an opinion of Liana. Though, had he been able to closely examine his views of her before and after their evening, he would have found his thoughts were more amiable towards her as well.

"I don't think that will be necessary," said Veronica. "We can at least get in a few hours' worth of searching."

"Well, let's get going then," said Challenger. He quickly stuffed his bedding into his pack and followed after the two blondes, who led the group once more.

Roxton and Liana proceeded him, their steps light and their smiles wide as they talked. Without thinking about it, Roxton took Liana's hand.

Behind them, quiet as a ghost so as not to draw attention to her heartache, Marguerite watched the exchange. She wiped a hand across her cheek, catching a stray tear.

The right thing. It had never felt more painful.

XXXXXXX

Finn and Veronica looked behind them, making sure everyone was still close. What they saw should have unnerved them both.

Marguerite and Challenger were the closest to them, Challenger only rarely dallying to observe interesting flora and fauna. He appeared unchanged and content. Perhaps he was a bit tired, but that was to be expected after a long day of searching.

A ways behind them were Roxton and Liana, looking for all the world like lovers out for a stroll. Only Roxton's rifle and pack ruined the image.

And yet what should have been most unsettling of all were the shifting looks on Marguerite's face. Every time Liana and Roxton's laughter rang, her unconcerned expression turned from scathingly disgusted to downright hostile.

Very briefly, the thought never having a chance to take firm hold, it crossed Veronica's mind that Marguerite looked exactly like she used to when she first arrived on the Plateau. She looked as harsh, unfeeling, and selfish as she ever had. Were John thinking with a clear head, he would have had confirmation for some of his theories on Marguerite's past. Abandonment had always been her weak spot.

Since no one was slacking, Finn and Veronica continued on without noticing anything unusual.

The group continued walking, following this degraded footprints from Liana's flight through the jungle. Eventually, the footprints disappeared altogether, worn out from time and the crossing of other creatures.

"Does any of this look familiar?" Veronica asked Liana, gesturing around them.

Liana took a cursory glance then shook her head, addressing her answer to Roxton. "I was so frightened that I didn't get a good look around."

Roxton nodded, his eyes glued to her face. "That's perfectly understandable."

Marguerite snorted. "It's also perfectly inconvenient. How are we supposed to find her family now?"

Roxton didn't spare Marguerite a glance, but Finn and Veronica glared, which she noted with some confusion.

"You can stay with us," he said to Liana. There was clear hope in his expression. Liana smiled beatifically at him. Marguerite scowled.

Veronica, her usual hospitable self, echoed Roxton as did Challenger and Finn. Marguerite therefore could do nothing but grumble to herself and follow them back to the tree house.

After a while, Veronica fell back a bit to speak to Marguerite.

"I don't like the attitude you're taking," said Veronica in a low voice. Marguerite looked at her with surprise that grew angry.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've been distant and rude to our guest and quite frankly, I won't stand for it."

Marguerite scoffed. "We barely know her. Besides, what do you care if I am rude to Miss Flirt?"

"I'm just warning you now, Marguerite, Finn and I - "

"Oh, now you two are talking behind my back."

"Well, it's not like we can talk with you! We like Liana and if you're going to be your usual self, then maybe you should leave the tree house."

"I - what?"

"Just until Liana finds her people. Maybe you can stay with the Zanga." Veronica gave the bewildered Marguerite a harsh look before hurrying up to join the front of the line.

XXXXXXX

On the balcony beneath the stars, Roxton stood with Liana as he had done with Marguerite countless times. They leaned against the railing, sides touching as they surveyed the jungle and wide sky in front of them. Now and again Liana would shuffle closer and Roxton would smile.

Inside, Challenger had gone to bed uncharacteristically early, feeling the effects of several days trudging. His snores were gentle at the moment, but the others knew he would get louder throughout the night. Luckily everyone was more or less used to it or they'd never get any sleep themselves.

Finn and Veronica read by lamplight, Veronica helping Finn work out the more complex words she didn't know yet. It was a simple, pleasant evening for them both.

"He seems happier, doesn't he?" said Finn with a nod towards the balcony. Veronica smiled.

"He does. I hope it will last."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"I'll give you one dark-haired reason," said Veronica frowning. "I know she'd deny it, but she's been jealous in the past and I wouldn't put it past her to sabotage them."

"What should we do?"

Veronica shrugged. "Make sure she stays out of his way."

Finn nodded. "We can do that."

Marguerite, like Challenger, had excused herself early in the evening. The others hadn't so much as glanced her way as she left them. She tried to tell herself it didn't matter, but she couldn't help feeling a little hurt.

Alone in her bedroom, Marguerite wasn't attempting to sleep as Challenger was and though she held a book, she wasn't reading. It was a journal, one she'd owned for many years. Its pages were cared for, if a little worn and crammed with tiny, indecipherable writing.

Pen paused over the present journal's page, Marguerite took a moment to collect her thoughts before writing encrypted notes about her week. A translation of her encryption was as follows:

I finally did it. I drove John away. Even the others don't want to speak to me. I didn't even plan it. How ironic that after three years of trying to discourage them from getting to know me, I've managed to alienate them all in a matter of days. I thought I was stronger now, but being alone hurts just as badly as it used to. Still, it's better this way for them all.

Liana and Roxton laughed loudly at something.

Their blithesome voices drifting down to her room sent a pang of envy and great sorrow through Marguerite's heart. Closing her eyes, she sought control. When she could write without shaking, she continued her journal.

I could never explain my life to him, expect him to understand, to love me once he knew about me. Worse, I could never protect him when I'm not sure I can protect myself. I can't help but think that returning to England will be more trouble than it's worth, especially with the price that's on my head.

I wish I could have been born to a different life, one in which we could be together. I think we could have been happy, but he found someone he seems to like now and though it hurts, I hope he will be happy. I love him enough to wish that much. It's better this way.

Closing the book, Marguerite bit her lip to stifle her chest-wracking sobs, but she was unable to hold back the tears. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth when a few noises of distress broke free.

Ever attentive to secrecy, Marguerite took a steadying breath then tucked her journal back into the secret compartment in the lid of her clothing trunk.

XXXXXXX

"Careful, Roxton," said Veronica several days later. She looked out over the balcony as the resident hunter gathered his rifle and hat for a trip. "It'll be warm today. If the humidity holds out we might even have another thunderstorm."

"I shouldn't be too long if the game cooperates."

He smiled as Liana came from the kitchen with Finn, but the smile froze into more of a grimace as she drew closer as though to hug him goodbye. Lately, her attempts to get more intimate with him were wearing thin and causing him trouble.

What Roxton really wanted was to resume his courtship of Marguerite where he had left off.

Though no one knew it, the light spell Liana placed on them had all but worn off early that morning, leaving them with charitable thoughts towards the newcomer, but no idea as to why they'd felt so kindly to a stranger and so hostile to Marguerite. They could have understood it if she'd been caustic or provoking, but she'd been more like a ghost in the past week.

Roxton hadn't expected his fight with Marguerite to last as long as it had, but anticipated it blowing over like so many of their other tiffs. He hadn't meant it when he said it was over and it never occurred to him that Marguerite might have taken it to heart or that she'd meant what she said either. However, every time he tried or there was any sort of opportunity to speak to Marguerite, he found Liana waiting for him. Marguerite wasn't helping either. She avoided him like the plague.

At first Liana's interest had been flattering and Roxton was ashamed to admit that he'd encouraged her just a bit too much. He blamed it on a failed attempt to make Marguerite jealous, but couldn't explain why he'd continued it for almost a full week. He remembered feeling very attracted to Liana, but couldn't explain why anymore. Now, he regretted his rash actions and was paying the price for them.

Delicately, Roxton moved around Liana and to the elevator, placing his hat firmly in place.

Veronica took the opportunity to follow him for a quick word. "I'll try to talk to Marguerite while you're gone."

"I don't know if you'll be able to. She's been avoiding us pretty well." He ran a hand through his hair. "Not that I can really blame her."

She grimaced slightly. "I have some things to apologize for too. I don't know what got into me. I'll talk to her."

Roxton smiled, but it was sad. "I appreciate it, but I don't think that will help."

"Don't worry. She can't stay mad forever."

"Are you sure about that?" Veronica chuckled and with a last smile, Roxton left the tree house.

Liana stood at the balcony to watch him leave, her glare almost enough to set the trees on fire. Despite all her attempts, Roxton had only been momentarily swayed towards her and even that had been little more than flirtation. She'd been more than irked to note very little coming from her spell on the others as well. Apparently the tree house occupants were more tightly knit than she'd realized.

"Fine, if you want to resist me, then we'll do this the hard way," she said under her breath. Though there was little she could do about Veronica, Finn, or Challenger, there was something she could do about Roxton's lack of cooperation.

A movement in the trees drew her attention and her lips twitched in amused anticipation as a cloaked, male figure at the tree line gave her a small wave and disappeared after Lord Roxton. Soon she and her associates would have what they wanted and she could drop this charade.

Marguerite and Challenger sat in the lab downstairs as Roxton left for his hunting trip and the women got to work on chores.

After arriving at the tree house, Challenger thought of an alternative to actively searching the entire Plateau for Liana's people: Veronica's maps. They would have to figure out which part of the Plateau she was from and find a way for her to get there. With that idea, they had hoped Liana would be able to point out a familiar landmark on one of their maps, but that too had not happened.

"I still don't see how she could claim her people trade in this area and yet she doesn't recognize a single landmark on any of our maps," said Marguerite. She stared across at an easel that had been set up and held several of Veronica's detailed maps of the Plateau. Idly, she held a pen to paper, recording Challenger's results for him.

Challenger looked up from pouring one heated chemical into a larger beaker with another liquid. The concoction turned a vivid purple. "Results turn pink. Write that down, would you, Marguerite?"

"That's purple, George." Marguerite marked it down.

"I've been wondering that myself."

"Why it's purple?"

"No, no, about Liana's position. I suppose if she did get too turned around and her people don't have cartography, it would be fairly difficult."

"You would side with her," Marguerite mumbled under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

One of Challenger's test tubes began steaming where it hung over a burner. He grabbed it up and examined it. "Marguerite, would you hand me that?" he said, absently pointing to another table with so much clutter that she had no idea what he wanted.

XXXXXXX

Roxton paused at a small stream and mopped his forehead. The heat was rising and he had yet to see any sign of prey.

Crouching down, he meant to fill his canteen, but instead he pulled out a folded piece of paper, the object to which his thoughts had turned more than once over the past few months. It was creased from constantly being taken out, read, rewritten, and folded again. He read it over once more, mumbling to himself as he did. While the rest of the page was mostly finished, the start was blank.

"Marguerite..." he paused. "No. My dearest... No, not that either." He looked around and scratched his head, hoping for some sort of inspiration. Damn it if the woman isn't the most difficult to woo, he thought with a smile. Though she might test his patience greatly, he wouldn't want her any other way.

The jungle was exceptionally quiet beyond the rustle of trees in the wind. Roxton didn't notice as he looked down at his letter once more.

He sighed and once more put the paper away. "Marguerite will laugh heartily at me if she ever finds this dribble."

XXXXXXX

It was late in the afternoon when Challenger finally released Marguerite for the day. Grateful for the opportunity to stretch, she went upstairs to find a snack and perhaps work on some sewing or read before she got down to her own list of chores. Thankfully it wasn't a long list today.

She had just settled into a chair with some fabric she intended to make into a new outfit for Finn when both Finn and Veronica came up on the elevator. Their arms were laden with baskets of fruits and vegetables.

Marguerite looked up from her sewing. "Where's Liana?"

Finn shrugged and put her burden on the kitchen table. "We met Roxton on the way back and she decided to go for a swim with him."

"I would have liked some help with these vegetables, but I guess we can do it ourselves," said Veronica with a scowl. She looked over at Marguerite's relaxed position and tensed. "Did you dust yet?"

"No." For a single-syllable word, Marguerite made it sound like a curse. She wasn't in the mood to be challenged, especially not after hearing where Roxton and Liana were.

"Veronica," Finn said quietly. She looked uneasily to the brunette, but Marguerite didn't react other than to explain.

"Challenger had me rearrange half the lab. I only just escaped."

"I'm sorry, Marguerite." Veronica ran a hand over her face. This wasn't what she had in mind when she told Roxton she'd talk to Marguerite. "I didn't mean to -"

"I know." Taking pity and stifling a yawn at the same time, Marguerite chose not to quarrel. "Give me a minute to put this away and I'll get started."

"No, don't worry. It doesn't even need to be done today." Veronica, Finn behind her, heaved one of the baskets up and took it into the kitchen.

With a sigh, Marguerite hauled herself up and followed. She wasn't really in the mood for sewing or being alone with her unpleasant thoughts anyway, not that she would ever admit to the last bit.

Finn and Veronica shared a surprised look, but wisely held their tongues as Marguerite entered the kitchen and offered to help prepare dinner. They put her to work kneading dough. As she worked, she listened quietly to their bantering and found herself enjoying it.

Challenger looked up from writing in his journal and smiled at the sound of female laughter. He then heard the elevator.

Roxton and Liana entered the main room, breathless and laughing. Their hands were clasped and they practically fell over one another. Their entrance was so loud and happy that no one noticed Roxton was missing the hat he'd left with that morning.

Veronica and Finn peered at them from the kitchen as they passed, but Marguerite remained where she stood. Her hands trembled, still covered in sticky dough and her eyes watered.

The trio worked in uncomfortable silence until dinner was ready.

XXXXXXX

The next morning and two others afterwards saw Marguerite out on the balcony before dawn, early enough to watch Roxton leave with Liana. They waltzed out of the tree house each morning, their hands clasped and smiles wide. Neither one noticed - or did not let on that they noticed - Marguerite watching from the early morning shadows.

The right thing, she thought.

Each time, she listen until their voices died away into the forest and then return to her room, a bit more of an ache in her heart.

During the days, there was little time for reflection or such observations by anyone, work keeping the women and men busy. Finn and Veronica tended to the garden and gathered fruit, made minor repairs, and made a few meals. They had to pick up the slack Roxton allowed to slip while he spent his time hunting, gathering firewood and courting Liana. Challenger was set a very different task.

In the interest of keeping a volatile situation from exploding, Challenger took it upon himself to ensure Marguerite was busy and unable to see what Liana and Roxton were up to. Veronica and Finn would have helped more at this, but Marguerite stayed away from them as much as she did Roxton. When they did manage to coerce her into helping, stony silence and avoidance was all they could hope for. They couldn't blame her for it either, not when they remembered with confusion and guilt some of what they'd said to her. They didn't know it was from a spell so how could Marguerite? They didn't know about her early observations or her attempts to console herself.

"Not too small, Marguerite," said Challenger with a smile. He'd set her to work cutting up herbs that would be fed to his newest batch of test mice. However, her mind was elsewhere so she'd not been paying attention to the size of her cuts.

"Sorry." She repositioned her knife.

Challenger watched her a moment, debating with himself whether he ought to speak. He knew matters of a personal and delicate nature were not his area of expertise and usually avoided getting into them. However, he knew too well that no one else would or could confront the prickly woman about her recent unhappiness or the reason for it.

She sighed, so softly that he knew it had slipped out without her realizing it. The depressed little sound was so unlike her that it settled his mind.

Taking the plunge, he continued to set out lab equipment and asked, "Is there anything you would like to discuss, Marguerite?"

"Like what?" she replied dully.

"Well, I thought perhaps you would like - or maybe you should..." He sighed. This really wasn't his forte. "I've heard it is useful to speak about things that are bothering you."

Grey eyes flicked his direction and back again. She straightened a bit as though preparing for a fight and her voice grew stronger. "What would be bothering me?"

Challenger knew it was a lost cause. All her defences were up, evidence of that in her wall-like posture. Still, he continued. "Roxton has been spending a great deal of time with our newest guest. I would think you'd be upset by that."

"Contrary to popular belief, George, Roxton and I aren't romantically involved. The great Lord Roxton is quite free to do what he likes." The knife moved firmly through a bit of yam now. "He ought to be happy," she said and then, an afterthought, "with her."

"But you two were -"

"Were nothing, Challenger," she snapped. "We never were and I don't want to talk about this anymore." Marguerite turned her back on him, the knife slicing the yam and hitting the board beneath with dull thuds.

Challenger let the subject drop.

They were almost done when the elevator rose and stopped with a clatter at the top and two very jubilant people exited. Roxton and Liana practically tripped over each other they were so close. Every now and then they would kiss as though they couldn't get enough of each other's taste.

"Everyone, we have an announcement," Roxton called. He wrapped an arm around Liana, who leaned into him, her smile wide.

Veronica and Finn left the kitchen and sat down, watching Roxton and Liana with confusion and a hint of dread. The couple exuded too much excitement for this to be anything small. Whether it was good news or bad was yet to be seen and determined by the listeners.

Challenger came up from his lab and took a seat next to Finn while Marguerite stopped at the entrance to the balcony. She wanted a quick escape to solitude if she needed it.

Challenger looked over and noted that Marguerite stood, partly hidden in the doorway, her pained expression focussed solely on the smiling couple in the centre of the room. Her hands still cradled the knife she had been using to cut the yams.

"What's going on?" Finn asked, looking between the smiling Roxton and Liana.

"We wanted to tell you all together," said Liana. She looked to Roxton and nodded.

"We're getting married," said Roxton. He and Liana shared a sweet kiss as the others in the room tried to collect themselves.

"But you hardly know each other," said Veronica, her mouth agape as she stared at Roxton, wondering what had gotten into him. Finn echoed her sentiments.

"Well, we know it's sudden," said Liana, "but we just couldn't ignore how we feel about each other."

"I've never felt this way about anyone," said Roxton giving her another peck on the cheek. "I feel like we've known each other all our lives."

"Well," said Challenger, casting a furtive glance at Marguerite, who hadn't moved a muscle, "if that's how you feel, then congratulations." He stood to shake their hands. "I hope you two will be very happy together. Now, if you'll excuse me... I left something on the burner and I don't want to leave it too long."

As Challenger disappeared into his lab, Finn and Veronica stood to give their congratulations. The women shared awkward hugs and Roxton shook each of their hands, beaming the whole time. Once that was done, the engaged couple went down to Roxton's bedroom to enjoy some time alone.

"Well, what do you think of that?" Finn turned to Veronica once they were out of hearing distance.

Veronica shook her head, her arms crossed as she contemplated what they'd just witnessed. "I really don't know. It's certainly unexpected. You?"

Finn didn't answer. Veronica looked at her, but Finn's attention was at the balcony doorway.

Veronica turned to see what she was staring at.

"Marguerite?" Veronica asked, worried by the look on the other woman's face.

It was subtle, but the expression in Marguerite's eyes were simultaneously empty, then devastated, then angry, then empty again, trying vainly to feign neutrality. Even from a distance, Finn and Veronica could see her frame trembling.

A bit of red caught her attention and Veronica looked down in concern. Finn noticed it at the same time.

"Marguerite, your hand!" said Finn, rushing over.

The knife that Marguerite had been chopping vegetables with was still her hands, clasped so tightly in her white-knuckled palms that her left had begun to bleed where the sharp blade was forced into sensitive flesh. Together, Finn and Veronica guided Marguerite to a chair where she sat without a sound.

Veronica pried Marguerite's fingers off the blade as carefully as she could. Finn took it away and grabbed some medical supplies.

The brunette then sat quietly, her eyes unfocussed while they cleaned and bandaged her hand. Finn and Veronica didn't speak to her during this process. What could they say?

XXXXXXX

"You should have seen her face, Challenger," Veronica said. She, Finn and Challenger were in the laboratory, having just gone over what happened.

"Where is she now?" Challenger, sensing all the gravity of the situation, had abandoned his experiments in favour of discussing the turn of events.

Finn played with an empty test tube as she replied. "We told her to take a nap, but she insisted on going out."

"She's wandering around the jungle with a bloody hand?" Challenger was filled with horror and surprise. How could they let her go into the jungle with a wound that was bound to attract predators? Finn shrugged, but Veronica understood what he meant and she hurried to reassure him.

"No, she's just getting firewood ready and then she'll do household chores. And there's no use giving me that look," she continued as Challenger looked about to scold. "We couldn't stop her. Besides, I think she needs to get outside, away from -"

Having put down the test tube, Finn began tapping her fingers on her leg. "Am I the only one who's surprised she didn't at least say something to him if it upset her this much?"

Veronica shrugged. "She never wanted his attention and spurned him so many times I don't know why he didn't give up before now. What I don't understand is how she can be surprised he's found love somewhere else. Assuming that's what this is."

"Can you really look back on all we've been through and all we've learned about each other and say you believe that?" asked Challenger softly.

Veronica sighed. "I suppose not."

"I can't claim to understand her, but I believe she really does care for him."

"Then what should we do?" asked Finn.

"What does it matter?" said Veronica. "Roxton has Liana now and we're just going to have to live with that. If Marguerite has a problem with it, it's her place to do something about it."

Challenger shrugged, thinking Veronica was right. It was John's choice and Marguerite's issue.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite couldn't sleep and it wasn't because of the constant throbbing in her hand.

No matter what she did, her thoughts kept turning to what might be going on in Roxton's bedroom. She couldn't hear anything, but the more she tried not to listen, the more her ears strained as though wanting to hear something to break her heart completely.

Then again, maybe she was just seeking confirmation that the engagement was a charade, that Roxton was under a spell or playing a cruel joke that had gone too far. She tried telling herself that it didn't matter. She broke off their romance and it was better it had happened now before she did something she regretted... or regretted more than breaking two hearts. That Roxton had already moved on only proved she'd made the right choice. Hopefully in time she could rebuild the icy walls around herself.

Unable to resist any longer, Marguerite got up and tiptoed her way to John's room, hoping to see him sleeping alone.

The tree house was quiet, only Challenger's snores breaking the silence until Marguerite came right to Roxton's doorway. As she did, the tiniest noises became noticeable.

A perverse need to see for herself the totality of his betrayal forced her to peek through the open doorway. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn't.

The two people in the simple bed were making love, only their silhouettes visible from her angle. Liana straddled Roxton's body, moving slowly back and forth, their quiet moans and gasps keeping time with her movements.

Roxton sat up, his arm wrapping around Liana's torso to pull her closer so he could speak in her ear. "I love you."

Marguerite didn't stay to hear Liana's answer and therefore missed how they both turned to the doorway.

"How long was she there for?" Roxton asked as Liana slid off his clothed torso and pulled her nightgown back up.

"Long enough to be fooled. I think it's finally over."


	4. A Split

Thank you to those who read & those who reviewed. I truly appreciate your support.

XXX

Finn yawned widely at the top of the staircase the next morning.

"You look like you could use a few more hours in bed," Veronica commented from the kitchen table. Finn sat down and helped herself to toast and fruit.

"It was just one of those nights. I slept fine, but I'm still tired."

Veronica smiled. "We've been busy. Maybe it's time for a break."

"What did you have in mind?"

"We can go see Assai or go for a swim."

"I could go for a swim. Why don't we make it into a picnic?"

"Sounds good. I'll get the food started if you want to let the others know."

"Sure." Taking a piece of toast in hand, Finn bounded down the stairs.

Veronica grabbed a basket and quickly began packing away some meats, bread, and fruit. She hadn't yet filled the basket when Finn returned, her forehead creased in confusion.

"Veronica?"

"Yes?"

"Did you see Marguerite this morning?"

Veronica shook her head, still gathering foodstuffs. "She's still asleep. I saw her door closed."

"Did you actually see her in bed?"

Veronica paused, thinking. She looked up at Finn, who was chewing her lip. "No, I didn't. Why?"

"Because she's not in her room or the bathroom and I can't be sure, but I think her room looks cleaner."

Both women glanced at the gun rack.

"Her rifle is gone. She must have gone to do some chores." Veronica returned her attention to packing, not really concerned over the feisty brunette. Marguerite was more than capable of taking care of herself, but Finn couldn't dispel her concern. A niggling feeling in the back of her mind pressed her.

"Veronica, her room was really clean. I think some things are missing. Please, take a look."

With a tiny sigh, Veronica followed Finn downstairs and to Marguerite's room. As soon as she entered, she understood what Finn meant.

The room was immaculate, almost empty, the usual jewellery boxes and bits of laundry and mending gone. Though Marguerite's trunk still sat at the base of her bed, Veronica sensed that the owner was gone, as though her usually vivacious personality had left a mark that was now fading with the removal of its source.

Taking the steps two at a time, Veronica and Finn hurried upstairs again.

Challenger, who had been woken by the commotion, came out of his bedroom and followed them up. "I say, what's going on?"

Finn answered as Veronica was hurrying to grab her own weapons and canteens. "Marguerite's gone."

"If we hurry, we might be able to catch up to her today."

"You don't think she's gone that far already?" Challenger asked, horrified.

"I don't know how much time she has on us and she can move surprisingly fast when she wants to." Veronica entered the elevator, but paused before going down. "Finn and I will go on ahead. You get Roxton and follow. We'll mark the trail for you."

Challenger nodded and turned immediately to search for Roxton.

As soon as the elevator reached the bottom, Finn and Veronica leapt out, sent it back up and disappeared into the jungle, following the light footsteps left by Marguerite's boots in the dewy ground.

The women made it to the river where their group often swam or washed clothes. For a moment, they expected to see her crouched at the edge of the water, rinsing something out, but no one was there.

With a glance at each other, Finn went downstream and Veronica up, in the hopes of determining where Marguerite came out of the water. They went as far as they dared out of each other's sight, but saw nothing and then had to return.

"Anything?" Veronica asked as soon as they met back up. Finn shook her head, eyes dancing around the forest for any signs they might have missed.

"Nothing. If you were Marguerite, would you head upriver or down?"

Veronica looked both ways, seriously contemplating the question. Finally, she had to admit that there was no right answer. "Most animals go downstream just like they go downhill because it's easier."

Finn nodded reluctantly. "Right, but Marguerite knows we'd know that and she's not a panicked animal."

"Which means she would want to go upriver, but then she knows what we know and that we would guess that tactic."

"So, what's left?" Finn's blue eyes focussed on Veronica having given up trying to glean anything from their untouched surroundings.

"I don't know." She sighed. "She could have gone either way and until we have enough people to search both directions and both banks, we'll never know."

"Then we better hope Roxton and Challenger hurry up."

"You don't need to hope for anything," said a familiar voice. Challenger appeared on the trail, Roxton and Liana right behind him.

Though it was clear how worried Challenger was by the creases on his forehead, Finn and Veronica noted a gleam in Roxton and Liana's eyes that was akin more to excitement than concern. It wasn't an expression they expected on his face. It instantly made them wary and eye him and his new cohort with suspicion. They moved aside while Roxton looked for Marguerite's non-existent footprints himself.

"I think we should split up," said Veronica quietly. "Something's going on and I don't like it." Finn nodded in agreement. "I'll go with Roxton upstream if you go with Challenger and Liana."

"All right. Be careful. I'll signal with the mirrors if we find anything and if not, we can meet back at the tree house before it gets too dark."

Veronica nodded.

In a few minutes, they had explained their plan to the others and were on their way.

Roxton made no argument with the pairing, though Veronica sensed a disquiet about him when she mentioned it.

Instinctively, she kept a hand on the large knife at her waist, an action that she surprised herself with - this was their Roxton after all - and yet couldn't help but feel was necessary.

It didn't escape her notice or that of Roxton's that Finn likewise kept her weapon at the ready. Veronica hoped their actions would be put down to caution for the normal jungle predators. He certainly tightened his grip on his own rifle.

XXXXXXX

"I didn't think she'd paid this much attention to our lectures," said Veronica as she and Roxton hiked back to the tree house.

Though they pushed the daylight hours as much as they could in their search for Marguerite, their efforts yielded little, only a set of false trails the woman left for them that inevitably led back to the river.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Veronica found herself irked and a little amused at being outwitted in survival skills - even for a day - by a woman who by all accounts knew little of wood lore and had shown no inclination to learn. Obviously, Marguerite had paid more attention than she let on for her circuit of false trails had been impeccable, subtle, and gave absolutely no indication to her followers as to where she'd broken off.

"You're a good teacher, obviously," said Roxton with a light smile.

Veronica eyed the man carefully and didn't answer. He seemed much too happy given their fruitless search. The thought even occurred to her that his aura of excitement and relief might even be because they hadn't found Marguerite.

A rustle in the bushes distracted Veronica from her thoughts. She halted immediately and looked around. Roxton continued walking as though he hadn't noticed the sound, which confused Veronica further. How could the hunter not have heard it or not know what it meant?

"Roxton," Veronica whispered, eyes still darting around the forest, "stop."

Roxton turned, his rifle still held loosely and pointing to the ground, his back exposed to the forest. He was utterly unconcerned.

Before Veronica could rebuke him for his carelessness, two raptors jumped out from the jungle and at Veronica. The reptilian body hit her hard and its teeth and claws immediately tried to grab her, but she used the momentum of the blow to roll away.

Even in the panic of the moment, Veronica looked to Roxton and was amazed to see him hesitate before swinging the rifle up and to his shoulder. Even when he did, it wasn't with his usual smooth grace and confidence. There was something of fear in his expression and the rifle shook ever so slightly in his hands.

Roxton squeezed the trigger and the kickback jarred him more than usual, almost forcing him back a step.

Neither of the raptors fell to his shot, which went wide and exploded the bark off a tree at least five feet to the right of the animals. Still, the noise startled them long enough for Veronica to get out of their way and to her feet again. In no time, she threw a knife into one and its companion ran off without its meal.

Without more than a glance at Roxton - she couldn't stand to meet his eyes when she was so unsettled - Veronica hurried to start again on the trail for home, this time at a faster pace, only giving a quick word to hurry Roxton along.

They made it to the tree house a little after dark. By the lights already shining inside, they knew the others had already returned. The smell of cooking meat and something like potatoes drifted towards Veronica and Roxton as they rose in the lift and they were greeted by just such a sight. Finn and Challenger were seated at the table, already digging in to a roast of something or other and vegetables, complete with the Plateau's version of a subspecies of potato.

"What's all this?" Veronica asked, astonished. Such a meal would have taken at least an hour to prepare and it had only been dark for a few minutes.

Finn was sullen as she answered. "Liana thought she would treat us to a nice meal," she paused, looking angrily at Challenger, who appeared sheepish, "while Marguerite is still out there."

"I see." Veronica stored the bulk of her weapons away, but kept the knife she usually stored in her boot in place.

Gingerly, eyes watching Liana and Roxton, she took her seat at the table and ate, though with less gusto than usual. Her appetite had lessened significantly since their run in with the raptors, her instincts and knowledge of her dear friend John Roxton screamed at her that something was dreadfully wrong, though she couldn't understand what.

Veronica waited until everyone was employed in some pastime after dinner before approaching Finn with her observations. They meandered over to the balcony as though simply enjoying the cooler air and view of the stars outside.

"I think we should go out and look for Marguerite tomorrow, just you and me."

Finn didn't need to ask why. "What about Challenger?"

"He can stay here. Someone needs to keep an eye on the tree house. We'll tell him why, but you and I can cover more ground by ourselves and I'd prefer it if Liana and Roxton didn't know. We can tell them we're visiting the Zanga so they don't feel the need to tag along."

Finn nodded. "Zanga. Got it. I'll tell Challenger before I go to bed. We can leave before sunrise."

XXXXXXX

The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was later in the afternoon, by the time either Finn or Veronica wanted to take a break.

"She's good," Finn remarked. She took a drink from her canteen. Veronica did likewise. They were both sweating and despite their best efforts, had yet to see a trail they could definitively say was left by Marguerite.

Veronica nodded. "Too good. I don't think we're going to find her unless we have some very good luck."

They continued to search until Finn broke the comfortable silence. "Have you noticed that Roxton hasn't worn his hat in a few days?"

"Not really."

"Well, he hasn't."

Veronica shrugged and continued searching the ground for footprints. It was another few minutes before Finn broke the silence again.

"You know," said Finn, hesitating as she thought, "something's been bothering me."

"What is?"

"Yesterday, when we split up, I originally wanted to search the southern bank of the river, but Liana insisted she take the south and Challenger and I take the north."

"It doesn't matter. Marguerite's footprints were upstream. She might have only left false trails there, but at least we know that's the direction she headed.

"Still..."

"You think she was trying to hide something?"

"I think they both are. She seemed... overly happy when she convinced us to head home yesterday."

"So did Roxton." She sighed, thinking of every time Marguerite had been in trouble and Roxton had been the driving force behind her rescue. It was uncharacteristic, unthinkable even after a huge fight, for Roxton to just give up on Marguerite. "Okay, we'll search the south side."

They weren't more than an hour into their search in the new area when they did find something of interest.

Finn bent down, brushing aside some leaves. "Veronica, look. Someone tried to hide tracks here."

Veronica joined her and they quickly discovered a trail that had been too hastily covered to destroy all evidence. "Here, and here," said Veronica as she crouched over several steps imprinted in the loose soil.

"Men's boots," said Finn as she followed Veronica.

Veronica nodded. "Judging by the size, whoever it was is about the same size as Roxton."

"You don't think he..." Finn couldn't complete the thought. What was he supposed to have done?

"These are at least a few days old, not from yesterday. It looks like they just stopped here to get water," said Veronica as she examined a broken branch next to the compressed dirt. "It does seem too much of a coincidence, though."

"Do you think we should follow it?"

Veronica nodded. "Whoever made this trail didn't want us to find it. It might be important."

She stood and together they followed the trail into the jungle. It went only for a few minutes before leading into a thick clump of bushes and grass.

Without much thought, Finn followed the trail and promptly fell out of sight.

"Finn!" Veronica called as her friend disappeared into the wall of foliage.

"I'm all right." Finn's voice was muffled by the grass, but strong and steady. She huffed and puffed a moment, getting her feet under her. "There's a tunnel down here."

Picking her way carefully, Veronica stepped down, finding that Finn had actually walked off a steep embankment hidden by tall grass and overhanging branches. Only a few feet down, she had to bend over to duck under an earthen overhang that led into a very well hidden tunnel. She followed Finn's bent frame into a taller cavern.

They both straightened and looked around, blinking in the darkness.

Once their eyes had grown accustomed to the lack of light, a bit of movement caught their attention. It was an animal unfurling from sleep, more than five feet in length and pale. Finn and Veronica's breath caught and they immediately raised their weapons in defence.

The creature made a muffled noise and both women gasped, their eyes widening in shock.

XXXXXXX

Three days later.

"It's almost dinner. Shouldn't Finn and Veronica be back soon?" asked Liana as Challenger helped set the table. On the balcony Roxton was putting back his third drink, the alcohol going down so easily that Challenger frowned. One would think Roxton hadn't had a drink in months, not that the man indulged overly much to begin with.

"I expect so," replied Challenger. "They said they'd be back today."

"Good. I would think three days with these Zanga would be too long for Veronica to be away from home."

George just grunted.

Roxton spoke up from the balcony, still reclining in his seat. "Here they are now."

After a minute Veronica exited the elevator alone, her hand down and turned to hide something behind herself. She sent the elevator back down once she'd stepped out.

"Where's Finn?" asked Challenger, concerned.

Veronica smiled, but there was a wariness in her eyes as they took in everyone's position. "Outside. She had something in her boot."

"Oh."

Veronica raised her voice to carry to the balcony. "Roxton, can you come here a moment?"

With a sigh, Roxton heaved himself out of his chair and came into the main room. "What can I do for you, Veronica?" he asked, a roguish grin on his slightly flushed face. His eyes were a little too appraising of Veronica's body after the liquor.

Veronica held out what she'd had behind her back. "I found your hat."

Roxton froze, hesitating a moment before he jauntily stepped forward to take the clothing item back. "Thank you, Veronica." Veronica handed it to him and then nonchalantly moved to the balcony. "I didn't think I'd find it again."

"I suppose not. When did you lose it anyway?"

Again, he hesitated, thinking as Veronica looked out over the balcony railing quickly. "I suppose it was when Liana and I went swimming." He brightened a bit at the viable, partial lie. "I must have left it behind in all the excitement."

Liana smiled at him as she and Challenger placed the meal on the table and they all converged to eat. "It was a pretty wonderful day, wasn't it?"

Though Roxton smiled widely, Challenger could only manage a polite sound in the back of his throat. Veronica remained silent and tense.

The group sat down, but with the atmosphere quickly growing tense, no one spoke as they waited for Finn. The minutes ticked by.

"Maybe I'll see what's keeping her," said Veronica. She stood and went towards the elevator, but paused at the gun rack. A flicker of movement on the stairs to the lower levels was the signal she'd waited for.

Taking hold of a rifle, she pulled it down and quickly returned to the table, pointing the weapon at Roxton's back.

"Veronica?" Challenger's eyes were wide, his tone wary, but he didn't move to stop her. Liana's face grew red, her eyes narrowing in rage as Roxton raised his hands and slowly stood.

"It's okay, Challenger," said Finn, appearing on the stairs. Her own crossbow was trained on Liana as a familiar figure dressed in very outdated clothing followed her into the main room, his pistol in hand. "That's not really John Roxton."

"John?"

Lord John Roxton chuckled at the astounded look on Challenger's face. He supposed it was quite the peculiar scenario. It had certainly surprised him to stare up at his exact double as he was stripped of clothes and stuffed in the cavern where Finn and Veronica stumbled across him. "Hello, George."

Roxton nodded to the side and, taking the hint, Challenger moved away from Liana and the doppelganger Roxton.

"I can guess," said John to his twin, "who you are and where you come from, but I don't understand how you got here."

The imposter remained silent, his glare defiant.

"But you," John looked to Liana, who bristled at him. "I don't know who you are."

"Of course you don't. Arrogant man." Liana's lips curled. "Why would you remember the woman who loved you, who offered you everything, the woman you left to die?"

Before any of them could question what she meant, she reached to her side and pulled out a leather bag which she threw to the ground. The dust enveloped her like a shroud and when it had cleared, making everyone else cough, she was gone.

Roxton's imposter used the distraction to push Veronica out of his way and run to the elevator, but it was still on the ground where Veronica had sent it in anticipation of this attempt. He listed at the edge and turned to make a grab for one of the weapons on the gun rack, but Veronica was already on her feet. She used the end of her own gun as a club and knocked him unconscious.

Challenger watched, still confused, as Veronica and Finn tied up the man who looked so much like their friend that it was impossible, and yet was real. The women then hauled him down to the storage cellar where he could be kept safe.

The real John put his pistol back in its holster at his hip and looked around. He moved to sit at the table and as he did, Challenger noticed that the hunter's usually steady gait was hesitant, wobbly even. It was as though Roxton was getting over an illness. Concerned for his friend, Challenger moved a chair out, which John took gladly.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, George, but where's Marguerite?"

XXXXXXX

Danielle, formerly known as Liana to the tree house occupants, ran as fast as she could through the jungle, not really paying attention to where she was going. She and Roxton failed.

Her chance for revenge had slipped away for now, but she would return as soon as she could to destroy the John Roxton who'd left her to die at the hands of the people she once commanded.

Like water or sweat trickling off, her disguise slowly faded from her now that she no longer needed it. Her straight hair took on a wilder look as her skin became pale and her eyes rounder and full of a wild desperation. To see her as she ran was to see a demon.

A dark figure appeared ahead and she stopped dead in her tracks, her real form revealed once more as Danielle, the queen whose stolen power was gained by black magic and cruel ambition. She stared at the man, her eyes now fearful.

"You failed me," said the man.

"No, Lord M -"

"You did not kill even one of them and now they know what we've been up to."

"They don't know enough to guess. Roxton won't talk and if you let me get him back," she said eagerly, "we can try again."

"There is no second chance in this game." Danielle took a step back at the force of his anger. "I needed them infiltrated for the time of choosing and you've done nothing but waste my time."

"But the Chosen One left!" Danielle took another step back even as she said this, hoping to save her own life. "She doesn't trust her friends anymore. If you or Locke persuade her to become immortal, she's as good as yours."

"She is being persuaded as we speak."

Danielle sighed, relieved.

"But that doesn't excuse your failure." Lord Mordren raised a hand, an energy gathering from his palm that shot out like a bright bullet and caught Danielle in the chest.

With a shriek of pain, she glowed for a moment and then was nothing but a handful of dust scattering in the wind.

XXXXXXX

Roxton didn't like it, but there was nothing for him to do besides glower and offer his advice as Veronica and Finn packed overnight bags the next day. They were preparing to go on a proper search for Marguerite while Roxton stayed behind, still too weak from his ordeal to go traipsing around the jungle. Challenger, the best doctor they had would stay behind as well to keep an eye on John and their captive, who was still tied up in the storage room.

"She's probably going to draw on her experiences from the war and create false trails," said John.

Finn laughed. "Yeah, we noticed."

"We know she headed upriver so we'll just have to start there and hope some of her tracks are still visible," said Veronica. She patted Roxton's shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll find her."

Roxton nodded. "Be careful."

"You too. I don't want to come back and find you still sick."

Challenger and Finn laughed as John rolled his eyes, but didn't retort. With happy, hopeful smiles, Veronica and Finn left the tree house.

XXXXXXX

Six days later.

It was late, the pitch black of the night emphasizing the silence of the jungle. In the tree house all but two bedrooms sat empty, lending an eerie feel to the darkness. The only thing to break the silence there were Challenger's occasional snores.

Marguerite wandered the tree house for a while, her fingers trailing over a few familiar items in a quiet goodbye. She walked with no candle or lantern, her way lit only by the moon and guided by memory. Despite her days spent away from the tree house, she was clean and groomed impeccably as usual. Her jodhpurs and blouse were even luminescent when they caught the light of the moon.

Downstairs, Marguerite found the doors to the bedrooms closed and though she desperately wished to look at her friends one more time, she didn't enter in case they woke. They would only try to convince her to stay, but she was past wanting to be persuaded.

She hesitated outside her own room and bent her head to listen, thinking Liana might have taken her room as well as her lover. There was a sound like someone sleeping inside, a soft breathing sound. Marguerite didn't open the door, but she stood, her suspicions confirmed and continued on to the room she was really interested in.

Had she taken that extra step and opened her own door, she would have seen that her window was open just enough to let in a breeze that whistled through the wooden frame and that it was just as empty as she had left it.

Roxton, still recovering from his captivity, slept soundly, enough so that he heard nothing when Marguerite entered his room. She stepped lightly, her boots making almost no noise on the wooden floor. She paused at his bedside, her face expressionless as she watched him sleep, his features calm and peaceful, boyish even.

A light breeze through Roxton's window stirred the air enough to make John sigh and turn over. The movement spurred Marguerite in her own purpose. There wouldn't be another chance and if she waited too long, her opportunity would be gone.

As quiet as a ghost, Marguerite removed her clothes and set them next to the bed for easy access.

With just a whisper of cloth as she pulled the sheet back, she joined John in bed. She enjoyed stroking his face once or twice before gently coaxing him from his deep sleep with a kiss.

He responded at once, his eyes not even fully open. When they did, they widened and he drew back, his hand cradling her face as though he couldn't believe she was actually there.

Not wanting to hear him speak, for fear that he would say another woman's name when her own features were undoubtedly obscured by the dark and his drowsiness, Marguerite seized his lips in a searing kiss.

That one caress turned into a dozen and before either of them knew it, John was above her, his lips moving over every bit of skin he could reach as she did the same. Her hands explored his body and he knew she was as ready as he was when her hands became demanding, pressing him down against her.

She almost smiled, thinking she never would have guessed this passionate man to be such a tender lover, but he was. Even as they began to move together, he took his time, which Marguerite appreciated more than he would ever realize.

This was their time, their last time, though John didn't know that. She wished it would last forever.

XXXXXXX

Their lovemaking done for the night, John fell asleep again. He rolled to spare putting pressure on his side where the injuries were worst, facing the wall opposite his door. Marguerite watched him, her eyes full of unshed tears.

She was dressed once more and sitting on the edge of his bed, the letter John had worried so much over sitting in her hands as she read the words and believed them to be dedicated to another. Certainly, he had never used such lovelorn expressions with her. That there was no name, no dedication only appeared as further evidence to her.

Far calmer than she would have expected of herself, Marguerite placed the letter back on John's bedside table where she'd found it and left his room. Like a ghost once more, she drifted through the hall and to the elevator.

XXXXXXX

Veronica and Finn sat around a small campfire, roasting a bird they'd managed to catch to supplement the rations they brought. A few dinosaurs and night creatures could be heard, but it was nothing ominous. Bats squealed overhead, happily swooping after insects.

The two women had found nothing to lead them to Marguerite. They were currently circling their way home, taking a zigzagging path back to the tree house. Their thoughts were resigned to the reality of the situation; there were just too many places Marguerite could have gone to believe they would actually find her. They didn't even have a trail to follow. Neither one mentioned the obvious, that Roxton would not accept such an outcome, but there was little they could do about it.

"Which area should we search next?" asked Finn. She washed down a bit of dinner with a swig from her canteen.

Veronica looked around, judging their location and trying to recall what was around them. "There's a system of caves -"

"Of course there is," Finn said. Veronica laughed.

"They're a bit more to the south than I think we really want to go right now, but there's a spring close to them as well and two of them are wet caves. You know how much Marguerite would appreciate being close to clean water if she's on her own."

Finn nodded, but was already itching to go in another direction from the one Veronica had pointed out. "I think we should continue going west and skip the caves. She's never been to this area so she couldn't know about the spring and she hasn't been fond of caves recently. If she was looking for water, she'd stay closer to one of the rivers."

Finn was already planning the next day, but Veronica knew something else they were close to and though the place held unpleasant memories for Marguerite, it was familiar and she could very well have stumbled across the secluded water source from there. It had the added benefit of potential shelter and being a place even her friends wouldn't expect her to hide.

"Actually, Marguerite has been out here."

"Really?" Finn thought hard, but couldn't remember the woman mentioning anything about it. "When?"

"Before we knew you. Olmec, a trickster god - well, I'm not sure he was a god, but definitely a powerful being - he promised Marguerite immortality."

"Immortality?" Finn repeated, incredulous.

Veronica shrugged. "He was really after her jewels, but he did take her to a temple in a ruined city."

"Let me guess. This temple is close to these caves and that spring."

"Close enough that I'd be willing to bet it used to be a water source when it was inhabited."

"Well, then I guess we know where to check next."

XXXXXXX

"That's that then," said Finn as she kicked aside a stone. The caves were empty and there was no indication that anyone had been inside in a long, long time. The trickling of water echoed from deeper inside, but the women had already searched and found no footprints or cold campfires, not even an overturned pebble.

One at a time, Finn and Veronica waded through the clear water that seemed to weep from the rocks and trickle into the river that clogged the entrance of the cave. A few small fish nibbled at their legs and toes as they held their boots out of the water. Five or six monkeys made a ruckus in the canopy.

Veronica thought with sadness that Marguerite would have liked this cave and the river, and the fish that always tickled with their search for food. Absently, she wondered why she'd never taken the group to visit. She and Challenger might have even spent a few days searching for artefacts from the people who used to live in the area.

"I still want to see the ruins before we leave," said Veronica.

XXXXXXX

The streets of the deserted city had been disturbed. Veronica read the signs easily and pointed them out to Finn as they crouched in front of the entrance to the mine.

"Someone on a horse came through here and then a few days later, two more did."

Finn pushed aside some vines to peer into the dark entrance of the mine. A bit of cold air hit her face. "How long ago?"

"At least two, maybe three days."

Finn looked around, noting the footprints leading inside the mine. "I think one of them was Marguerite."

Veronica was still analysing the trail, but Finn's words surprised her enough to make her look up. "Why do you think that?"

Finn pointed down at the footprints. "I recognize that lopsided heel on her prints."

XXXXXXX

The Tale Of and For Marguerite:

Roxton and Liana were... No, don't think of it! Marguerite's thoughts spun in circles as she relived the past few minutes. She could still see their bodies entwined.

Marguerite returned to her room, her mind so blurred by shock that she didn't remember a step. Whether she walked or ran, she couldn't remember. As soon as she was behind the familiar walls, she tried to sit on the edge of her bed, too weak to stand. She slid down to the floor and pulled her knees into her chest as tears made tracks down her cheeks.

At first she cried silently, but the quiet grew too much, like a weight pressing down and she spoke aloud just to break the feeling.

"I can't do this, not again. It's too hard," she sobbed, muffling the sound in her hands. She thought letting him go would be hard, but not this hard. The pain from her first love's betrayal had been nothing to this. She felt as though someone had cut her chest open and pulled out her heart then torn it to shreds.

"And yet... it's still better for you without me." She sniffled, resignation and determination taking over as a loose plan formed in her mind. The others were happy on the Plateau. She was the only one who had to leave. So that's what she would do. If it took her searching every inch of jungle, even if it killed her, she would find a way off and she would do it alone.

She pulled out a pack from under her bed and began gathering her things. After some hesitation, she even stuffed the iridium pendant Kartas gave her into her pocket.

Once the items from her bedroom were packed and Marguerite was dressed, she moved on to the jewels hidden around the tree house. It didn't take long for her to gather them up and stuff them into separate bags and store them on her person. She then holstered her pistols, leaving her rifle. Outside the tree house, she dug up the rest of her stashes, finding the spots without even a candle to light her way. Her eyes were adjusted to the dark and she didn't wish to give herself away should anyone wake and look out a window.

Knowing full well that her tree house companions would try to follow her and that she wouldn't be able to fully outwit their tracking when she had so little time, she allowed herself to slip up a few times as she headed to the river. She vowed they would be able to follow her to the water, but no further.

Once at the riverbank, she crouched and looked around, making sure no one had followed. It was still deeply dark and there were no sounds or movement to indicate anyone had followed her.

She was utterly alone.

With one last look around, Marguerite slipped her boots and stockings off, rolled up her pant legs and waded into the river. Keeping her feet in the water, she trusted the flow to wipe away the footprints she left in the softer sections of the riverbed.

Over an hour of sloshing through the cold water, Marguerite stopped and looked around, certain she heard a branch snap behind her. Was it possible that someone followed her, or was it a new observer? It could be something harmless; a monkey or tapir or even the wind. Then again, it could be a raptor or any one of the threats stalking the Plateau.

She would take no chances.

Stepping out of the river, Marguerite replaced her boots and determinedly entered the jungle. She was careful to keep track of where she was going so that she could find the river again. Using every bit of training her time as an agent and her time with Roxton and Veronica had given her, Marguerite created false trails that would keep whoever found them busy for hours.

She waited until she was certain no one was behind her before once more slipping into the river. In those places where it was too stuffed with boulders to walk, she picked her way carefully around or over them, knowing the heat would dry her footprints, erasing the last signs of her passing.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite did not stop when the sun rose or even when it began to set again. She followed the river, her feet turning pale and wrinkled until they didn't look like they belonged on a human. She took a few breaks, but only enough to eat and warm her feet. It was dangerous to stop too long.

Twilight was earnestly encompassing the sky by the time Marguerite relented to the need for sleep and she chose a tree in which to spend the night. Even though she had kept to the riverbed for almost the whole day, she still took care to hide her trail from the water to the tree. It wouldn't do to put in so much effort only to be caught in a day just because of laziness.

The tree wasn't particularly hard to climb, but she was panting by the time she settled down in one of the higher branches. It took her a few twists and turns to decide just how she was going to both sleep and stay in the tree. The last few times she'd had to do this, she'd had Roxton to lean on and keep her safe. They'd switched off every few hours. Of course, this time there was no one and she eventually settled on sleeping like she'd seen a leopard do once, her body draped over the branch and her head cradled on her hands.

Her large eyes scanned the retiring jungle before they finally closed, content that the only sounds and movement were from things that posed no threat.

She couldn't say how long it was that she drowsed before her subconscious picked up on an approaching threat.

The lightest tread of human footsteps reached Marguerite's ears and she was instantly alert, sitting up as she scanned the jungle. Her tree's branches were full of leaves and there were several other plants blocking her from anyone's view from the ground, but she was still wary. Had someone actually followed her or was this a coincidence?

She decided to hold her position and see if the person came closer or passed by.

It wasn't even a minute before a man - she could only tell it was a man by the heavier footfalls and the size of his black outline in the inky dark - came right up to the base of her tree.

The man paused a moment, placing his hand on the trunk as though to support himself as he took a rest and scanned the dark jungle. And then he spoke, still not looking up.

"Are you really going to stay up there all night?"

Marguerite was too shocked to reply to Locke's half-laughing question. How had he seen her when she could barely see him?

Locke continued, a smile growing on his face as his teasing voice grew even more so. "It's rather barbaric and uncomfortable for a woman of your tastes and standards."

"What are you doing here and how did you see me?"

"I didn't see you, but I knew you were there."

"How?"

"I'm a god, remember?"

"A thieving, trickster of a man, nothing more," she said and put her head back down across her hands, determined to ignore him. If he tried to climb up to her, she could easily shoot him from her vantage point and he knew it. Still, she didn't like the idea of a man who had once tried to kill her following her around the jungle.

"Ah, but tricking people is a harder job than many realize." He looked up, sensing the impact of his statement even though the woman remained silent. "Isn't it, Marguerite?"

Some night creature called a warning to its mates in the distance, its alarm sounding like a human shout.

"My offer is still open if you want it," said Locke. Though his eyes weren't strong enough to pierce the gloom and see Marguerite above him, he continued to gaze up. "Even if the only gift you allow me to give you is a bed for the night, I would be happy with that."

"Is that so?" Marguerite didn't move from her position in the tree. She smiled. "Why don't you come up here and try to coerce me into your bed?"

Locke chuckled and sat on the ground, his back against the tree. He had no intention of going up or away. "I know you well enough to give you space until you're ready. I'll wait down here. And just so you know, I wouldn't coerce you unless you wanted me to."

"You can't possibly think I'll believe that."

"I'll prove it to you sooner or later. Unlike some, I can wait as long as you need."

Marguerite didn't answer. Soon, too tired to resist, she closed her eyes and fell into a light slumber as Locke dozed below her.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite woke with the first warm rays of sunlight hitting her full in the pupils. For a moment she couldn't remember why she was in a tree with a sore back. It didn't take long for the heartache to return in full force. She stifled a sob.

Someone moved below her and she looked down to see Locke still asleep. Doubtless he had chosen to sleep where he had because there was no way Marguerite could climb down without stepping on him. As she sighed in disappointment, he stirred and woke.

With a quick glance up, Locke stood and stepped back, gesturing grandly that she could come down.

Eager to get out of the tree and work out the kinks from her back, Marguerite all but jumped from one branch to the other.

Feeling the familiar press of a full bladder, she even allowed Locke to help her down. His hand was warm and smooth around hers.

Unlike Roxton, Locke had perfectly soft hands, the result of a relatively easy lifestyle and the opportunity for pampering.

Unbidden, the thought came to her mind that she too could have that type of life... if he wasn't lying. Marguerite quickly told herself to think of something else. She pushed the titillating thought to the back of her mind, where she could feel it churning, waiting to worm its way back to the forefront. Locke even allowed her privacy as she relieved herself.

"So, where are we going today?" Locke asked as he fell into step with Marguerite, who was headed for the river again.

"We?"

"I can't let you wander this dangerous jungle alone. How ungentlemanly do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're a gentleman at all."

"I'm wounded."

Marguerite stopped and faced him, her hand on her revolver. It gave her a twinge of pride to see him step further away. "Maybe I should just shoot you now and then you'll get the point that I neither want nor need your presence."

Locke raised his hands in surrender, his expression turning wary as Marguerite fingered her weapon. "Very well. I'll leave you be, but my offer is still open."

"Not int -"

The whistle and thud of a poisoned dart interrupted her dismissal. Both Marguerite and Locke ducked beneath a huge fallen tree and looked for their attackers. They caught sight of a few dark-coloured feet and shuffling foliage, but the movements were too quick to even try to pick off with a gun.

It was a good minute before Marguerite noticed that in the process of ducking for cover, Locke had rolled so that he was in front of her, his arm holding her protectively close. With one look from her, he soon had that arm at his own side. Despite her previous protestations, she felt colder and somehow more alone and vulnerable as he drew back. It had reminded her too much of what Roxton used to do. A frown creased her features before she returned her attention to the danger at hand.

They watched the movement around them and then, as though a good joke had just come to him, Locke laughed.

Before Marguerite could stop him, Locke rose from their cover and stood to face the jungle. His stance loose and unconcerned, he didn't look around as their attackers exited the foliage, though Marguerite's eyes darted everywhere.

There were four natives, not head hunters or cannibals, just a small hunting party. Their darts and spears were designed for taking down monkeys and other lithe game. Marguerite wondered then why she and Locke were being attacked.

The natives circled Locke, their spear tips pointed at him and their crouches prepared to lunge or retreat like they were approaching a vicious animal. Locke just smiled a little smile and let them come.

As Locke stood, his smile growing, the air became heavy and everything darkened, not like a storm or night had fallen but like the light around everything was being dimmed. There was a coldness that spread and Marguerite shivered, astonished to see the white puffs of breath escaping everyone's mouth.

There was a rumbling in Locke's chest that spread to the ground. Bits of dirt, leaves and small stones blew outward from where Locke was standing like sand being pushed to shore with a gentle tide. Then, with a great exhale the debris rushed back inward. Locke spread his arms wide and a burst of darkness - Marguerite could only compare it to the black clouds of a thunderstorm - exploded from him, knocking the natives flat.

With the men incapacitated, Locke smoothly bent over and picked up one of their spears, holding it above its owner.

Marguerite rushed from her hiding spot and grabbed Locke's arm before he could plunge it into the unconscious native.

"They're going to kill us, Marguerite," said Locke, disbelief that she would stop him colouring his voice.

"Look at them," she said with an impatient wave of her hand. "They're a hunting party, not slavers or head hunters. We must just be in their territory, and now that they're not a threat for the moment we can get away," she said and pulled him along towards the river. They hadn't gone more than a few steps when he planted his feet, forcing her to stop.

"If we want to get out of their territory alive then we'll have to do it fast." Locke lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled high and shrill. A second later, there was a whinny and the sound of hooves.

Locke's horse picked his way quickly through the forest and came to stand in front of his master. Locke swung into the saddle deftly. Nudging the horse further up, Locke extended his hand to Marguerite. She hesitated, but as one of the men moaned, regaining consciousness, she took the offered appendage and allowed him to pull her up behind him.

The wind was warm as it fanned her hair out, drying the sweat that had already started to collect at her neck and where the heavy pack rested against her back. She spared only a quick glance back at the dazed natives then turned back and tightened her grip around Locke's waist as the horse picked up speed, weaving through the trees.

They rode for several hours, Locke eventually allowing the horse to choose its own pace. Far from being uneasy and knowing she should be, Marguerite remained silent and tried to think of some means to get away from him. She was therefore, very surprised when he presented her with the opportunity.

The sound of rushing water confused Marguerite as much as it encouraged the horse to hurry his pace. Once at the riverbank, Locke slipped from the stallion's back and helped Marguerite down like a gentleman. He then turned to her with a sad smile. The horse took the opportunity to gulp up the cool water.

"Well, as long as you stay away from the usual trouble you should be fine from here," said Locke. He smiled a little at her pinched expression. "I promise I won't follow you."

"Why? Why did you help me?"

Locke appeared surprised at the question. "Don't you know? I love you."

"You know I don't have my jewels with me and my friends won't be able to find them either this time," she said with her own smile. The treasures she'd taken from the tree house were stashed so she could return for them if there was a need or if she found a way home. Only a few precious bags of stones and gold were being carried on her person and even those were hidden and hidden well. "You won't steal from me this time."

With a laugh Locke shook his head. "I never wanted to steal from you. It was all incentive for you to join me. You could have taken them back at any time."

"Hmm, but if it's share alike for your little group of bandits, then I wouldn't have them back. My jewels, the ones I worked so hard for," she said, placing emphasis on each word, "would belong to everyone. Not to mention that I would have been dead and unable to enjoy them."

This time Locke sighed. "I wasn't lying and I'm still not. I want to make you my immortal companion." His expression lifted as an idea came to him. "I tell you what we can do. I'll give your jewels back."

Marguerite blinked rapidly in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"As a token of good faith to show that I really do mean what I say, if you come with me to my camp, then I will return your belongings to you."

Her brow rose archly. "And what condition will I be left in if I go with you?"

"I will not hurt you." Locke hesitated, but decided to press her. "What do you have to lose?"

It was a sore point and it hit hard. Marguerite sucked in a breath, eyes wide, but she didn't rage or argue his word choice. She was wandering the jungle alone and with minimal supplies. A night in a real bed with good food was difficult to pass up. Of course the most painful meaning of his statement was forefront in her mind.

I am alone, she thought with despair. Though she had been alone many times before and usually for years at a time, this felt different because she had thought she'd finally found something special, something that would last forever. The absence of her friends alone was enough to make her want to curl up and weep. That Roxton had willingly given her up without a second thought was devastating.

Sensing her depression, Locke pressed further. "You'll never get off the Plateau without help. You know that."

Marguerite lifted her chin, defiant, but knew he was probably right. If Veronica and all the people they'd met during their adventures were unable to tell them a way off, how was she to find a path alone?

What does it matter if he does kill me? There's no way I can find my way home alone and I can't go back, she thought. No, the very idea of returning to the tree house to watch Roxton marry another was enough to break her.

For all her protestations and fiery spirit, Roxton had been right about her: her heart was softer and more capable of selfless love and commitment than she had ever let on. What he hadn't seen was just how bruised her tender heart already was or how easily it could be shattered. She saw it the moment they started their cat and mouse game. It was the reason she fought so hard against him, fought in vain. Bitterly, she thought it would have been better if he had done as she asked and let her alone.

It took only a short moment for all these thoughts to go through her mind. Locke watched the flashes of emotions run across her face and had to wipe the triumphant smile from his face before she saw.

In no time at all, they were both aboard the horse and moving through the trees again. This time, Marguerite's eyes only flitted once behind them in the direction of the tree house. She then forced herself to stare determinedly ahead.

XXXXXXX

The morning was bright and warm and Marguerite was so comfortable that she forgot the sunlight was filtering through trees and an open tent instead of fine curtains. When she did open her eyes, the sadness of the previous days flooded back and she had to lie still for a minute or two before she was composed enough to get up with a properly uncaring expression.

She was alone in a large and richly decorated tent. Fine red and gold silks lined the walls and an intricate Persian rug protected her bare feet from the cooler dirt underneath. There was a brass stand in the corner holding a cream-coloured wash basin and towel. A wooden table next to it had a blue and white vase with clean water. A full-sized mirror stood at the side. Next to the bed was a wood and brass-lined trunk. The lid was open to reveal women's clothing made from beautiful linens, silks, and velvet.

Ignoring the temptation to put on or even run her hand over the lovely dresses, Marguerite rinsed her face and tied her hair back before joining Locke at the campfire for breakfast. Despite the large size of the camp - two large tents as well as a campfire and an area set up for two grazing horses - there was no sign of anyone else, not even the two men who had supposedly accompanied him for centuries.

Locke handed Marguerite a plate of oatmeal with chopped fruit mixed in and a cup of coffee. She raised a brow at the simple fare. While she didn't mind after so many years on the Plateau, Locke didn't seem the type of man to rough it if he didn't have to.

"And here I was expecting fine French cuisine again," Marguerite said. She absently wondered if he'd killed the two men. "Where are your friends?"

"They decided to stay in Oregon while they waited for me. To be honest, I think your friends frightened them. They've grown to greatly enjoy their immortality. They don't want it to end."

"They shouldn't have worried," Marguerite mumbled into her coffee.

Locke smiled.

Marguerite raised her head suddenly, her stormy eyes assessing Locke. "You weren't just passing through were you?"

Locke didn't need to ask what she meant. "No, I was in the area when your friends started looking for you."

"And you ran out after me as well." Marguerite snorted. She grew sad picturing her friends searching the forest in vain. "I knew they'd feel obligated. I hope they won't be out too long."

It was silent as they ate. Marguerite more just picked at her food at first, but then gave in to her hunger and surprised herself by almost licking the bowl clean.

"I know you want to be alone," said Locke, "but I wonder if you would be kind enough to accompany me for today. There's something I'd like to show you."

Marguerite stiffened for a moment before once again thinking that it didn't really matter what he had planned. My life is more or less worthless now, she thought. She nodded. "All right."

XXXXXXX

It turned out what he wanted to show her were the ruins of the ancient city where he had once tried to drown her. Though the place had less than pleasant memories, Marguerite didn't feel disquiet being there with Locke, just sadness at the memory of how Roxton had come running headlong to her rescue.

Perhaps part of why she wasn't as nervous as she otherwise might have been was because she was riding her own horse. The dainty grey mare that had been grazing alongside Locke's white stallion moved smoothly under Marguerite's slight weight. It was a beautiful creature and Marguerite took proper delight in riding the mare, having loved horses from infancy.

They moved past the stone dais where the pools of water sat impassively and further into the deserted city. Marguerite's head turned this way and that as her eyes tried to take in everything at once. The ruins were more expansive than they had first appeared, on a scale that would keep archaeologists busy for years. There were temples and many houses and shops in various states of decay. Most structures were collapsed or hidden behind years of dirt and fallen leaves.

It was only Marguerite's experience which allowed her to see that the hills were actually structures that had been covered over by the jungle.

"Do you come here very often?" she asked, noting how some places - not just the stone dais - had been cleared of debris.

Locke shook his head. "No, the last time I was here... well, you remember it."

"Then who's been keeping the jungle at bay?" This she whispered to herself as she scanned the surrounded forest for watching eyes. They passed by a few completely intact houses, but Locke didn't seem to notice anything unusual.

They moved through the maze-like design to the centre of the city where a crumbling monument with an open doorway stood. This structure was covered in so many vines and fallen leaves and dirt that the only visible part of the monument was the top where its straight sides had not allowed debris to gather. It was huge, touching the sky even in its decay.

Locke slid from his saddle and helped Marguerite down as well. She didn't need his help, but he moved quickly and had his hands on her waist, guiding her to the ground before she could refuse. There wasn't a chance to slap or berate him, though. He immediately stepped back and moved to the monument.

"Another temple for you?" Marguerite asked teasingly.

Locke grinned. "No, this is something very different."

"I can't wait."

"Come," said Locke, his voice gentle, "it's just in here."

Holding aside a few vines, Locke led the way inside the stone archway and inside the monument, which turned out to be an elaborate entrance to a downward staircase. They followed it, Locke leading with his hand trailing along the wall when it became too dark to see.

Marguerite kept her hand on the wall as well until her hand hit something hairy and moving. She squealed - she wasn't proud of it, but she did - and stumbled forward to grab the back of Locke's shirt.

She found herself both relieved and unsettled when he reached back to take her hand without laughing at her as she half expected. Roxton's hand was rougher, warmer, somehow more firm and reassuring than Locke's. She wished for Roxton's comfort and had to quickly turn her thoughts elsewhere before the tears gathering in her eyes or the choking sorrow in her heart gave her away.

"What are you going to show me?" She was relieved that there was only the tiniest tremble in her voice.

"It's a surprise."

Marguerite sighed, but allowed him to continue.

The stairs went far, the air growing cold long before they reached what Marguerite assumed was the bottom.

Locke stopped and guided Marguerite to stand beside him. He released her hand and a second later was striking two flint stones together. The rocks sparked at his side and a flame appeared. He had lit a torch.

There was enough light now for Marguerite to see that they stood on a platform that dropped into oblivion. She could tell where two walls of the underground chamber started, but the cavern was too large and too deep for her to see the end or the bottom with the single torch.

She was then led to the side where the stairs continued down even further. It took another few minutes but they eventually reached the bottom of the staircase. Once there, Locke reached down with the torch to a hole in the wall that ran around the room. Like a river, the flame caught the oil in the man-made well and raced itself around the entire room and suddenly Marguerite could see everything.

It was a mine, a very large one.

"Centuries ago," Locke said with a chuckle, "the people here discovered the land they sat on held riches beyond their imagination." He waved a hand at the ceiling, which shone and sparkled in the flickering light.

"Diamonds," Marguerite gasped.

Locke chuckled. "Among other things. Those are only small chips or stones of such low quality that they didn't bother to retrieve them."

"What happened then if they had such wealth?" She looked at him with a smirk. "If they had so much, what did you use to tempt them to their bloody doom?"

"You remember that, hmm?" he asked with a sheepish grin. He'd forgotten what he'd let slip during their last meeting. When he'd been so sure his plan was going to work, he had bragged of his hand in the destruction of the city.

Marguerite nodded. "Every man, woman, and child."

"Well, I can't take all the credit. They suffered the fate of every great civilization as well as my temptation. They mined everything of worth and once there was nothing left, they became plagued with internal government wars as well as attacks from outsiders wanting what they had."

"Something you exploited no doubt."

Locke didn't deny it. "Their wealthy became like gods and their poor died with even less grace than a beast of burden. I didn't have to help with that, but what true trickster wouldn't manipulate the situation to their advantage?"

"So, this is what you wanted to show me, the city you helped destroy?"

"You can't blame me for it all, really. At the time I was just a political figurehead who managed to buy the one thing everyone wants... everlasting life."

"So, you're not a god, just a man who managed to obtain what others have coveted for centuries."

"What is a god, really? Just a being of greater power who can do what ordinary people believe is impossible."

"What did you want to show me or did you just bring me down here to brag about your big, bad reputation?"

"I wanted you to see at least a glimpse of what you could spend eternity doing."

"You mean wandering around dank caves?"

Laughing, Locke walked over to a stone workbench that was cracked in half and reached over it to pull out a leather bag.

"Whatever you like, but I thought you had an affinity for jewels." He placed the bag in her hand and she opened it to find a glittering diamond and gold ring. It was an enormous sparkling stone surrounded by smaller ones.

Marguerite gasped at the treasure, turning it over in her hand in wonder. It truly was magnificent to behold.

"You could have as many diamonds and jewels as you like, enough gold to fill this entire mine, enough silks that you would never have to wear the same thing twice, enough interests and time to pursue them to keep you occupied for a thousand lifetimes."

Marguerite could think of nothing to say. Silently, her sorrow pressing her that it wasn't another man offering her such incentives, she held out the ring.

Locke refused to take back the piece. "Keep it." Marguerite looked ready to refuse again, but he insisted. "It's yours. Think of it as a reminder of my offer, a token of how I feel and what I'm offering."

"You know I don't love you." Holding the ring out still, Marguerite watched Locke closely. He just smiled sweetly, as though looking at someone he adored and she began to wonder if perhaps he wasn't telling at least part of a truth. She had long ago learned to accept that a partial truth was the only realistic thing to expect from others.

"I don't care. You can learn to love me."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will enjoy your company and be happy knowing you lived as you were meant to, freely and without societal restraint. I want nothing more than for you to be who you are."

XXXXXXX

Darkness fell by the time Marguerite and Locke returned to camp. He hospitably started a new fire and dinner while Marguerite cleaned herself up in her tent.

Marguerite washed her face and hands and dabbed at the excess water with a soft towel.

A glittering caught her attention and she looked down at her hand where Locke's ring now sat. She turned her hand to the side a few times, enjoying the way it shone in the candlelight.

It wasn't difficult to imagine keeping it, to feel jubilation at Locke's offer and the possibility of spending her life - however long it might be - enjoying the finer things and pursuing her interests as much as she wanted.

XXXXXXX

The time flew by from that moment on with Locke taking Marguerite to many secluded and beautiful spots. He showed her colourful gems, took her swimming, gave her money and allowed her to shop to her heart's content in a few of the villages, and then showed off his own scholarly leanings by taking her on a few archaeological and geological places of interest.

The grey mare was gifted to her as well and she spent as much time as she could with the graceful animal, even going so far as to name her Sylvianne. She enjoyed going for rides and was delighted to find the mare's personality and love of a speedy race complimented her own. It had been a long time since she'd been able to ride a horse and even longer since she'd been able to ride for leisure.

Marguerite often turned from petting and cooing to the mare, sensing Locke's eyes on her. She caught him looking at her several times with a tender smile and found that she didn't mind it as much as she once would have. It was a compliment that she couldn't help but feel when he looked at her like she was a woman he could hardly resist, and yet it did nothing to stir her heart.

Though she was well entertained, there was one thing Marguerite couldn't forget: Lord John Roxton. Her every other thought was consumed with him or comparing Locke to him. It wasn't healthy and it was slowly driving her insane to think of what she couldn't have and why it was her fault.

XXXXXXX

It was their eleventh day together.

Locke came to her while she was brushing Sylvianne. His own horse stood grazing nearby. Locke's expression was pinched in worry. It wasn't a look he wore often and it made Marguerite instantly wary. The mare's nose nudged Marguerite's elbow to get her to continue brushing. She did, but it was only with a fraction of her previous attention as she watched Locke.

"I need to talk to you," said Locke, placing a hand on Sylvianne's neck and giving her a pat.

"What about?"

"I have to leave soon. I'd rather stay here with you, but I promised to return for Condillac and Blum."

Marguerite nodded, feeling her heart sink. It wasn't that she'd miss him but that she felt yet another future of security being yanked out from under her. "How soon?"

"The day after tomorrow. I will come back for you if you like, but I can't guarantee when that will be. It could be months."

"I see." Sylvianne's nose bumped Marguerite's hip this time, but Marguerite ignored the mare as she thought.

"I'd like you to come with me."

This wasn't an unexpected proposition, but Marguerite was surprised to find herself conflicted. On the one hand, she had enjoyed her time with Locke and there was promise of more good things to come. She could return to England and finish the business she'd left on hold. There was also Locke's offer.

A life with Locke would mean a truly new beginning filled with opportunity.

Then again, she was well aware he could still be lying about his promises of immortality, and always in the back of her mind was Roxton. She kept wondering if he really was going to marry that horrid woman. The memory of seeing their bodies entwined intruded and she felt sick. Despite her sadness, there was also the relief that the choice had finally been made and that his heart hadn't broken as she feared. No matter what Roxton said, she knew there were things she might never be able to tell him and worse, there were things from her past that still made her life as dangerous as it had been during wartime. Roxton may have gained her trust and the confession of her love, but she would not put his life in any more danger than it already was.

"Can I think about it?"

"You will have to decide soon though," Locke said with a nod. "You can only come with us if you are immortal and it takes at least a day for the transformation to be complete."

Marguerite nodded, eyes on the ground as her mind turned in continuous circles. "I need to think."

Sylvianne shuffled. One ear was crooked back, listening to them.

Marguerite's eyes snapped up to the mare, her mind whirling with possibilities and arguments too complex to work out. She needed space and time to think. Without much effort, Marguerite swung aboard Sylvianne. The horse began to prance almost immediately, eager to go even before her rider was settled.

"Where are you going?" Locke asked. He only just managed to keep the greater part of his anxiety from his voice, but he was still concerned as Marguerite began to ride away.

Marguerite turned Sylvianne to face Locke as she spoke, but her eyes shifted constantly around as though looking for something. He could almost see her mind turning one thought over another.

"I need to think. I'll – if I decide to join you, I'll come back."

"Tomorrow morning is the latest I can wait for your decision," he warned.

She bobbed her head. "I understand." With that, she wheeled her horse around and was off.

XXXXXXX

Someone was leaving as Finn and Veronica stumbled across Locke's campsite. Finn and Veronica saw the rear end of a grey horse disappear into the jungle just as they came to the edge of the thinned forest where the tents were set up.

There was another horse, a white stallion, grazing not too far from them and the two women had to duck quickly so as not to be seen by the man standing close to the animal. Veronica instantly recognized the man as Olmec. Though her eyes scoured the site, she didn't see his two companions.

Locke looked in the direction the unknown rider had gone for a few minutes then swung aboard his own horse and went in another direction. He went too fast for Veronica and Finn to follow, but they were simply grateful that he hadn't noticed them.

"Who was that?" Finn's voice was a whisper despite their solitude.

Veronica left their hiding place and cautiously began to explore the camp. "Francois Locke, the trickster god in the flesh."

Finn's voice was absentminded as she poked her head inside a tent then disappeared inside. "I wonder why he's here."

"Who knows?" Veronica looked quickly inside the other tent, the one Locke used himself. She didn't linger, seeing it was more or less bare except for essentials like the bed, a mirror, some clothes, and a washbasin. She wasn't surprised, not really expecting to find anything of interest or relevance. "Maybe he needs a place to hide or he's looking for more treasure to steal."

There was silence.

Veronica hurried over to the first tent to see what was keeping Finn. As soon as she entered, she realized Locke's presence may not have been coincidental.

Finn stood at the end of the comfortable-looking bed in front of an open chest. She was holding up an elaborate red dress, the kind Veronica knew Marguerite would have loved to wear. A look at the luggage showed it was stocked well with beautiful garments.

Both women looked around the tent, but there was nothing to indicate it had been used by Marguerite. None of her clothes were there and the bed was immaculate.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here, Vee," said Finn. Veronica nodded in agreement.

"No, but we can't assume this isn't connected."

Finn grimaced. "It is too much to be a coincidence." She looked around again. "Maybe she hasn't been here. She's pretty good at hiding her trail. What if this Locke guy hasn't found her yet?"

Veronica shrugged. "We can't stay here forever. We'll just have to watch for a while and then we can decide what to do."

XXXXXXX

At first, Marguerite didn't know where she was going. She had no set destination, no plan, only the desire to get away from her conflict until she could sort her thoughts. It took a few hours of mindless wandering and constant battling thoughts before she finally turned Sylvianne in one direction and stuck to it.

It was getting dark when she passed the trail marking the way to the Zanga village and it was late into the night when she saw the tree house.

She left Sylvianne just inside the electric fence, not noticing how the horse's hoof prints disappeared from the soft soil.

Her eyes were fixed on the dark tree house like one entranced.

XXXXXXX

The Beginning of the End:

The first tendrils of daylight had already turned the sky vivid new colours, the kind no painter could ever find or hope to copy in a lifetime of study. Marguerite entered Locke's camp once more.

Locke was waiting, smiling as though he hadn't doubted her for an instant.

Marguerite may have been unnerved by that had she not already made up her mind. She had decided that she didn't care anymore whether she lived or died. Despite the melancholy turn of her feelings, this was not the decision of a hasty or self-pitying mind one would find in a lovelorn youth whose experiences are limited to the short sightedness and dramatic tendencies normally found in the selfish and vain. No, her choice was that of someone who has lived too much in the world and seeing all that she could have had taken away, decided to still the heart rather than let it suffer a long death.

If she turned down Locke's offer, she would be miserable and useless in her heartache, unable to return home and unlikely to find a way back to England. Even if she did make it to her homeland on her own, she would not be able to return to London and resume her old work with her mind so scattered and her heart always aching, drawing her attention from what was in front of her to what she couldn't have.

If she died, then she would have nothing to miss and no more deeds to regret.

Somehow, the possibility of immortality was the most daunting, only made the better option by Locke's promises that desires and minds changed along with the body. How would - how could she survive with these feelings for one lifetime let alone eternity? She took small solace in the possibility that the so-called trickster god was probably lying and would simply leave her dead carcass to be picked clean by scavengers.

Though Locke had waited outside for her, he still smiled in relief as Marguerite rode up to him, resignation etched on her solemn face. He knew without asking what she'd decided.

"Let's go," he said and smiled reassuringly as she nodded silently.

In no time at all, they were riding side by side through the brightening jungle to the ruins.

XXXXXXX

Roxton woke late, feeling much better and enshrouded in a sense of contentment that he hadn't felt in a long while. He rolled over and the empty space in his bed made him sit up, immediately remembering the night before. It seemed like a dream.

Hoping she was upstairs or in her own room, John hurried to get dressed. He was still buttoning his shirt when he leaned into Marguerite's bedroom. His smile faded quickly as he took in the empty space.

A sense of unease spreading through him, Roxton went upstairs.

Challenger was already up, sipping some tea as he read a book at the kitchen table. He looked up and smiled at Roxton. "Good morning. You look much better."

"Thank you, George." He scanned the room and even peeked outside on the balcony, but it too was deserted. "Have you seen Marguerite?"

The teacup paused halfway to Challenger's mouth and his bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. Setting down his cup, he looked more closely at Roxton, thinking the man might have been more seriously injured than they thought. He was contemplating head trauma as he answered.

"No, she's been missing for a few days now. Finn and Veronica went to look for her."

Roxton rolled his eyes. "I know that, but she was here last night. I assumed Veronica and Finn had found her. Didn't you see her this morning when you got up?"

Challenger shook his head. "Roxton, no one was here besides you and me. Are – are you sure it wasn't a dream?"

About to argue, Roxton's eyes slid to the gun rack. Marguerite's pistol and holster were still gone.

Biting back his reply in a bout of confusion, Roxton sat down and allowed Challenger to pile a plate with food for him. He even allowed Challenger to do a brief examination of his head, checking for concussion, but his thoughts were elsewhere during it all. Perhaps he did dream it. It certainly had seemed too good to be true when he woke to Marguerite's lips on his.

The two men sat in companionable silence until Roxton suddenly got up and all but ran to his bedroom. He knew he hadn't imagined Marguerite with him and he would find something to prove it.

His keen eyes roved over the floor and his bedside table. Everything was just as he remembered it from the day before. Exasperated with himself, he sat on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. He felt hopeless. He gave a sigh and then, looking down at a stray hair that had fallen on his pants, was seized by new hope.

Turning, Roxton pulled back the covers of his bed and scanned the pillows. Reaching down, he plucked off a long strand of black, curly hair, the kind that could only have come from Marguerite's head.

His eyes flashed again to the letter on his bedside table and with trembling hands he opened it. It wasn't terribly obvious at first, but after looking carefully, he spotted a dried splotch where a tear had escaped and hit the ink.

Triumphant and worried now, Roxton returned upstairs.

"She was here. I know she was." He didn't wait to see if Challenger followed. Instead, he grabbed a rifle and jumped into the elevator.

As soon as he was out of the lift, Roxton saw Marguerite's footprints. She hadn't even hidden her tracks as she moved from the tree house and into the jungle. Elated, he followed her trail into the forest, but quickly stopped and had to look back to make sure he wasn't imagining things. He checked and he was sure this was the right way, but where had her tracks gone?

He stooped low in case he missed something, but no matter how hard he looked, he could see no more footprints, nothing at all to indicate which direction she had gone. It was as though she had disappeared into thin air.

Unable to explain it or find any other hint of where she'd gone despite an intense search, Roxton eventually had to return to the tree house.

XXXXXXX

Locke pulled Marguerite's limp body from the pool of water and placed her carefully on the stone platform. Her hands, unlike last time, were untied and though she had naturally struggled when her lungs emptied of air, she had put up surprisingly little fight.

"I'm so glad you came back to me." Leaning over her still form, his lips brushing hers, Locke whispered to her as though he could glean the answer from her very soul. One hand tenderly ran through her thick hair.

"I wonder... what was the final push? What was going through your mind to make you not care if I killed you?"

Of course there was no answer. Marguerite was still and pale beneath him.

With a sigh, Locke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Placing both hands on either side of Marguerite's head to hold her still, he released his breath, blowing softly into her mouth. As he did, a bit of darkness, like black smoke, moved from his lips to hers.

XXXXXXX

Finn and Veronica trudged through the jungle late that evening, having left Locke's camp before sunrise so that they wouldn't be detected. There had been no sign of Marguerite the day before, nor had they heard or seen anything in Locke's behaviour to indicate she had ever been there.

Though they were still suspicious as to the immortal's motives, they decided their time would be better spent looking for Marguerite elsewhere. Unfortunately, their day had been as fruitless as those prior.

"It feels like we've gone over this whole Plateau. Do you think we'll be back by tonight?" Finn asked wearily. It had already been a long day and they had yet to make camp though the sun was beginning to lower behind the trees.

Veronica shook her head. "We'll camp just a little further on and we can be back at the tree house tomorrow before noon."

Finn sighed tiredly and with a nod, continued to follow Veronica through the darkening forest.

XXXXXXX

Tenderly as a lover, Locke carried Marguerite into her tent and put her on the bed. She didn't move and there was no rise and fall of her chest to indicate if she breathed, if her heart beat. Her skin was pale, blue even with the lack of blood flow.

He shook out the overcoat she'd worn on the way to the ceremony and something fell from one of the pockets to the floor with a clatter. He looked down in surprise and saw a silver-coloured pendant. It was a triangle within a circle. He'd never seen the symbol before, but it was an attractive enough piece of jewellery so he put it on her neck, taking the gold locket she wore off. He placed the locket with her things, suspecting she would appreciate this gesture.

He went to the chest at the foot of the bed and picked through it a moment, looking for something in particular. Smiling, he pulled out a dress that he'd wanted to see her in since first setting eyes on her. The vivid red dress in one hand, he took the opportunity to lean over her, his unoccupied hand running up her leg and side. His lips pressed to hers as colour began to creep back into her skin. Even as he moved back an inch, her lips were rosy and her cheeks flushed with glowing colour.

Locke smiled. "Not long now."

XXXXXXX

As soon as they entered the tree house they were confronted by Challenger. His usual self-assured aura was now tense and agitated as he grabbed their arms and pulled them into the kitchen. The afternoon sun was less intense in the kitchen where it entered the windows at an angle.

"Challenger," said Veronica in surprise, "what's wrong?"

Finn yanked her arm from the scientist's grip and griped, rubbing the abused flesh. "Yeah, what's with the manhandling?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to warn you about Roxton before he realizes you're back." He glanced around, but Roxton was nowhere to be seen. "You didn't find her then?"

Finn and Veronica shook their heads. Veronica was hesitant as she answered, her confusion evident. "No, but we did find something interesting. Locke is back."

"That's fine." Challenger hadn't really heard her. He was looking around for Roxton again. Veronica tried not to smile.

"So, what's wrong with the big guy?" asked Finn with a meaningful look at Veronica. Her lips were twitching as well.

Both of them forgot their amusement as Challenger told them what had happened.

"Roxton couldn't find any more prints." Challenger sighed. "He's been downstairs all day, pacing and searching books and going over maps, trying to think of where she would go."

"Wait," Veronica's eyes were unfocussed for a moment as she thought, "did you say her footprints just disappeared?"

Challenger gasped as he too realized what Veronica had.

Finn looked between the two of them, missing something. "What?"

Veronica turned to her as Challenger's worried gaze moved to the stairs to the laboratory where Roxton was still working.

"We don't know how, but Locke never left any footprints either. Even his horse's prints just disappeared like he'd never been there."

"Should we tell him?" Finn asked, nodding in the direction Challenger was already looking. Veronica and Challenger understood. Roxton was still recovering from his captivity and from the occasional sounds of items being slammed down, he was neither resting nor calm.

With a grimace, Challenger said, "We'll have to."

XXXXXXX

At first everything was dark and cold.

There was a glimpse of something bright beyond the dark, something that made her feel hope, love, the promise of greatness just out of reach for the moment, and a million other wonderful things at once. She - though she had no body and no sense of self or ability to do anything other than follow the strongest pull of gravity - wanted very much to follow those feelings.

Unfortunately, there was a stronger pull, one that she didn't want to go with so much but had no choice. While she would have happily drifted along and even sought the other direction, the one with hope, she could feel a force stronger than herself grabbing like icy hands around her and drawing her backwards.

With a gasp, Marguerite opened her eyes and looked with new sight on the ceiling of a large tent. She lay there for a long while, just feeling her new body's reactions and absorbing the atmosphere. She didn't feel terribly different, but everything felt new. Her heartbeat was strong and caused her chest and the cells of her body to vibrate with each solid pump. Her lungs expanded automatically, pulling the warm, humid air of the jungle deeply into her body where she could feel the oxygen as well as the spices that seemed to float in the wind spread through her clean blood. Even her muscles felt new and stronger than they had before. She flexed her fingers and then drew her hand to her face to examine them. Her hand was delicate, but sturdy bone framed in perfect muscle and covered with pale, rosy skin.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

Marguerite sat up quickly at Locke's voice.

He smiled at her from the foot of the bed and fingered the hem of her dress. She looked down at herself and realized that he must have dressed her while she was unconscious.

She was surprisingly untroubled by it.

Locke continued as Marguerite stood and moved to the mirror. "I remember when I woke immortal. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to know time would no longer rule me." He watched her a moment more. "Your emotions will be running high for a few years, but they'll settle down as you change. You'll start to build up strength too, but that won't come for at least a decade or two."

She let him talk, let him think she cared and was listening to his words. In reality, she was admiring herself. The dress was actually rather simple, more or less a bodice with fitted sleeves and a loose skirt, but it was made of soft and costly fabric.

Locke sighed. "You're not listening to me."

He sounded mildly angry and at that Marguerite chuckled. She was amused and more so that she was amused at his irritation. It felt like a game. She twirled a few times in front of the mirror just because she could.

"When you've had enough preening, we need to go." Locke folded his arms in an attempt to look stern as Marguerite ran her hands down her body. His facade at seriousness was spoiled by his smile.

With a laugh, Marguerite felt an impulsiveness overcome her and she bounded over to Locke and planted a kiss on his lips. It was quick and she pulled away to rush outside almost as soon as their mouths met. Locke sat for a second in dumbfounded happiness. His smile grew as he stood and followed her.

He found her soon enough, petting and cooing to her mare. Without missing a beat, Locke climbed on his own horse and heard Marguerite do the same. Putting his heel to his horse's side, Locke led the way out of camp and towards the ruins where it had all began.

Their camp disappeared behind them just as their hoof prints vanished from the dirt.

XXXXXXX

Mordren moved through the deserted tree house as he liked. There wasn't much to see that interested him, but he liked to look anyway. It was always good to know the layout of your enemy's dwelling.

His booted feet descended the stairs and found their way to the storage room where Roxton's pirate ancestor still lay on his side, bound by rope. The tree house occupants hadn't forgotten him. In fact, he was in very good shape despite his bindings.

The man drew back as far as he could, which wasn't much, as Mordren approached. It made Mordren smile to see there was fear in the usually brave man's eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you. Despite your incompetence, you have fulfilled your end of the bargain and now I will fulfil mine." Bending down, Mordren untied the ropes and allowed Captain Roxton to stand.

"I can go back?"

"You will find your boat where you left it. Take it back to the Spanish ship at night and unleash your crew. The woman you sought to free is locked in the Captain's room. Together you can take back what's yours and gain the favour of your English queen and riches your family will enjoy for years."

Roxton nodded, rubbing his arms where the blood tingled to return to the stiff limbs. In a flash of light, he disappeared.

After a last look around, Mordren too left the tree house.

XXXXXXX

The ruins came into view as did a rift in the air. Marguerite laughed in exultation and Sylvianne's tail flagged as she passed Locke. His horse snorted and tried to regain the lead, but Locke held the stallion back, eager to watch his conquest in the full glow of her new life. Her spirits were high, evident in her careless laugh and easy posture in the saddle.

A bit of movement in the trees caught his attention and he slowed his horse further. When he realized what it was, he smiled.

Roxton burst from the jungle and skidded to a stop so that he wouldn't be run over by Locke's horse, sweat glistening on his brow and soaking his shirt. His eyes were wild as they took in the entire scene. Horror creased his features as he watched Marguerite ride to the rift.

"Marguerite, no!" he shouted. It was too late.

Marguerite may have heard him or simply chosen that moment to look around. In any case, her gaze met his for an instant. Her expression became surprised, eyes widening. Before he could fully appreciate the glowing change in her looks, what Locke would later describe as the flush of life, her horse leapt into the light and then she was gone.

Roxton tried to follow, but Locke charged at him and he was forced to leap aside to avoid being hit. By this time, the others had caught up and watched as Locke smirked, gave them a mock bow and disappeared into the rift as well. As soon as he had gone through, the rift closed and the forest fell silent.

Dazed, Roxton fell to his knees. He didn't even feel the stones cutting his skin or the sweat in his eyes. It was impossible that she had gone and still his brain tried to comprehend what it had just witnessed.

Beside him, his friends were silent. What could they say?

"She's gone," he whispered. The words escaped his lips as he stared at the place Marguerite had disappeared. "She's gone."

End


	5. Man Eater

London is a complex maze of streets crowded with vehicles and people, dark side alleys that twist even more than the wider main streets. Lamps attempt to hold back the blackness during the night hours, but often there is only dimness even during the day unless the sun is particularly bright. Many houses and stores cram the city limits, all vying for space and attention in the smoke-filled atmosphere that has somehow managed to weave its way into a sizeable number of books and tales. Colours are often dimmed by dull light and soot from factories and chimneys, and yet the women do their best to pinch their cheeks and fluff pretty dresses into giving the city as much animation as they can. Their houses' rooms are decorated with the best and most colourful things they can afford, and often things they can't.

What is it about that dreary, rainy city that draws its occupants and sightseers every year to see cobblestones, stores, churches, and various monuments that are not terribly unlike what can be found in other, warmer countries? Marguerite knew, or rather she was discovering.

Alone for the moment and glad for it, Marguerite wandered London's streets for no other reason than because she wanted to.

She was dressed simply and conservatively, enough so that even her handsome looks went unnoticed by the majority of people. It was easy to glide through a crowd and be no more than a ghost, if you knew what you were doing. It was a special talent of Marguerite's that she was glad she had not lost.

Marguerite could hear the centuries of stories and history whispering to her through all the billions of cracks and crevices and detailed stonework that made up the old city. The secrets they whispered were like listening to a foreign language, one that she had and yet hadn't heard before. They had always been there, wheedling into her subconscious mind, but not until she'd become immortal had she been able to properly listen to them. The longer she walked, the louder and clearer their words became.

Although London was not her original home and had never been anything even like it to her, having spent more of her time abroad than in England, she still enjoyed the city and found its complex mazes intriguing and somehow comforting. It was a world she knew and understood well enough to either hide or exult in. It was like a playground where she could be safe and yet practice the tools that had kept her sharp and alive for so long. Paris was like that to her as well, if a little more dangerous thanks to past connections with lowly criminals and the world of the spies.

Marguerite walked for hours, for once not worried about anything. A sense of power, of capability had filled her since she left the Plateau with Locke. Oh, she knew she could die. Locke had reiterated to her just what her capabilities and limits were, but for the first time in her life, she felt a power surging through her. Somehow she knew it had been there all along, more a flow of energy through Earth than through her own body, but now she felt the ability to tap into that source.

Late into the evening, Marguerite noticed someone had started to follow her. The steps were heavy, a man wearing sturdy boots.

She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, tapping into the energy she could feel winding through the air like a river underground, just hidden from sight by a thin layer. She stopped and turned to Locke. Her smile was secretive, but triumphant.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," said Locke. He too was dressed in simple, neutral-coloured clothing that wouldn't draw attention in any modern city. His most useful prizes from gallivanting around the world were the trunks of clothing he'd collected so they could walk wherever they chose.

"I knew it was you."

"Oh?" His brows rose, but Marguerite just smiled and didn't comment further. Locke still kept some secrets. Of that she was certain. Why couldn't she?

"Why were you following me?"

"I wanted to ask if you would like to stay another day. Or have you had enough of these rainy streets?" He reached out and took her hand, tucking it around his arm as they headed back the way they'd come, this time looking like a couple out for a stroll.

Though she didn't pull away or show her distaste for the gesture, she made sure not to give any signs that would encourage his growing expectation for intimacy. He hadn't tried to force anything on her, but she felt his intentions. She was no fool. She knew what he would eventually try to get from her.

As far as Marguerite was aware, even small gestures of tenderness were practised by males only when they wanted something. Her traitorous memory supplied a dozen times Roxton had done or said something kind. Bitterly, she found excuses for everything until her heart was tight and closed off from all feeling beyond anger that she'd been duped.

"I finished my work and I think I've had enough," she answered. "Where are we going now?"

"How would you like southern Spain? As you know, it's much warmer and Blum would like to study with some master chef there."

"I haven't seen much of Spain."

Locke smiled widely. "You are going to love it."

XXXXXXX

"Damn it, Finn," Roxton shouted as he took aim with his rifle. He let fly another shot at the pursuing raptors, but only managed to graze one that wasn't quick enough to dodge.

"Well, I'm sorry! How was I supposed to know?" The apology was forced through gritted teeth as Finn and Roxton ran through the jungle, out of breath and still pursued.

"If you would just look where you're going!"

Finn didn't have the breath to answer. So she settled for rolling her eyes. Such gestures were becoming more common place between her housemates.

XXXXXXX

Veronica hummed to herself as she expertly put the finishing touches on a painting of a flower Challenger had discovered. He hadn't named the large, turquoise thing yet, but since it looked similar to a cross between a daisy and dandelion, she supposed it would be a mixture of their Latin names.

Challenger himself was downstairs tinkering at an attempt to create a sturdier material to replace the canvas on the windmill. They were all getting a little tired of continuous repairs after the common storms.

Veronica heard the shouting long before she heard the elevator and sighed; Roxton had been picking fights on a regular basis since Marguerite left. Though she couldn't distinguish the words - nor did she really want to - she knew what the argument would be about. Roxton had been exceptionally prickly the last few days, lashing out at everyone who did the least little thing wrong. She guessed Finn had startled the prey they'd been tracking or something to that effect.

Sure enough, when the elevator reached the top, the two occupants were silent and angrily glaring in opposite directions. As soon as the lift stopped, Roxton stomped out and disappeared downstairs.

"What happened?" Veronica leaned against a bookshelf as Finn took out her frustration in slamming her bag on the table and letting out angry huffs.

Finn pointed imperiously in Roxton's direction. "He is driving me crazy!"

Veronica shushed her. "Not so loud." She glanced towards the stairs, but Roxton remained below.

"I didn't do anything and he just loses it! He started shouting and accusing me of being careless."

"Just calm down, Finn. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"I understand he's upset, but that's no reason to take it out on us."

"You know he doesn't mean to." Or so Veronica hoped. "It's just that we're the only ones here so we have to put up with it."

"Marguerite wouldn't let him get away with this behaviour."

Veronica chuckled at Finn's pouting. "No, but she would have been even worse to deal with."

Finn snorted. "I guess."

XXXXXXX

Pakwa, a young warrior of the travelling Hehewuti tribe, was an active youth and usually splattered in mud with bits of twigs in his long hair, but today he was absolutely covered in dirt. His braided hair looked more like a muddy branch than the black hair that it was and his russet-coloured skin was caked with cracking brown soil.

The old dirt was replaced by new mud as he slid on his stomach yet again under a low branch, stalking his prey, a skittish young buck. The deer was only a few feet away now, but it sensed Pakwa's presence and its thin legs tensed as it raised its head, searching for him. Pakwa immediately stilled and held his breath.

Unlike many of the jungle's people, Pakwa carried no spear or projectile weapon of any kind; this was a test that did not allow such things. He was still learning from his Shuman, the title his tribe gave to warriors edging past their prime and chosen to teach the younger generation. The training they began six months ago had been leading up to this moment. Pakwa carried only a small hunting knife. His task was to bring back a prize with this knife, which he had fashioned himself, to prove his skills.

Though Pakwa didn't move, the buck's ears twitched and he was suddenly gone, tail flagging as he disappeared into the forest.

Before Pakwa could stand and follow, he too sensed something ominous. Turning, he saw too late what had startled the deer. Yellow eyes like that of a viper stared at him. He barely had time to register the feline qualities of the animal before it leapt at him. His scream cut off with a gurgle as the tawny monster sunk its fifteen centimetre long teeth into his jugular.

XXXXXXX

There seemed an awful lot of people crowding the Zanga village when Veronica, Finn and Roxton arrived. Though they all had dark hair and skin, their clothing and mannerisms seemed different than that of the Zanga, somehow more primeval.

The strangers looked at the pale-faced newcomers furtively and skittered out of their way. Baskets and bags surrounded almost every hut in the village. Whoever these people overflowing the village were, they seemed fearful and displaced.

Finn looked around, mumbled something about checking out the village and disappeared into the crowd.

Roxton, shocked into behaving by the sight of several malnourished children and weary mothers, followed Veronica silently to Assai's home. Even the powerful woman's hut was being shared. Outside sat an old man and woman, both weaving fishing net. They glanced up as Roxton and Veronica passed, their cataract eyes lowering respectfully.

Though Roxton had planned on hunting again, this time alone, he had been cajoled by Veronica into accompanying her to the village to retrieve material for new clothing. He would have preferred to spend the day alone, but this was a necessary chore. Besides, he rather suspected she was doing this for his benefit. He knew he had been less than pleasant recently, but it was impossible to check his temper when everything reminded him of Marguerite's desertion.

"Assai, what's going on?" Veronica and Assai hugged quickly. Assai sighed and sat on a pile of colourful rugs at the side where an older man sat smoking a pipe and her two children played, gesturing they should join her.

Assai nodded towards the older man, whose appearance Veronica couldn't help but compare with that of an ancient tree. His robes were of a dark earthy colour that matched the inside of the wooden hut. His once black hair was now white and grey, grizzled and hanging to his waist. A few small braids with colourful wooden beads were woven into his hair. The wrinkles on his face and hands were deep and soft, but his eyes were still glittering with great wisdom and intelligence.

Roxton actually paused in the act of folding his legs as those sharp eyes fixed on him and he felt like he was in the monastery again, having his soul surveyed by those he suspected could see and do things he couldn't even imagine. The moment passed and Roxton looked away, feeling somehow ashamed and not knowing why. The old man smiled slightly, but Roxton didn't see it.

"This is Nahimana, the elder Shuman of the Hehewuti tribe. They came to us yesterday, in need of help. They come from the highlands north of the mountains. Since they moved from their last camp, an animal has been stalking them. They don't know what it is and from what they've told our warriors, it's not something we've seen either."

"What do they say it is?" asked Roxton, his curiosity overriding his previous bad mood.

"A great cat, or something like it. Only two of their people survived to describe it and they only managed to catch a glimpse. It has yellow eyes, teeth as long as a man's hand, and fur the colour of sand."

"Has anyone tried to track it yet?"

Assai nodded. "We sent a party of twelve out yesterday. They haven't returned yet, but they sent a message and they've found no sign of the creature."

On impulse, not even expecting himself to say what he did, Roxton spoke. "If your people would like another pair of hands, I'd be happy to help." He tried to ignore Veronica's narrowed gaze. It was not unusual for them to offer assistance to their neighbours, but even Roxton knew there was more to his suggestion than that.

Assai appeared unsurprised at his words, though perhaps a bit taken aback by his eagerness. "I do not think it necessary right now, but if you would like to join our warriors, I can have someone point you in the direction they were headed last."

XXXXXXX

Roxton headed out almost immediately, only irritably waiting long enough for Veronica to give Assai a message to be passed on to Challenger: she and Finn would go with Roxton. He protested their declarations to help him, but they wouldn't be dissuaded. They weren't stupid and they sensed his real motivations for this hunt. So, now they tramped through the bushes as fast as they could to catch up with the Zanga warriors. The bugs bit, the sun beat down on their shoulders, and branches kept hitting them in the face and legs, but they didn't dare complain.

Finn was in the rear of their procession when she saw a flash of beige a few feet away, mostly obscured by foliage. It made her pause and raise her crossbow. Whatever it was had already gone, but she stayed in place, an instinctive fear making her heart race and limbs tremble. A fine sheen of cold sweat broke out as she looked this way and that for the reason why the fine hairs on her body were standing on end.

"What are you doing?" Veronica's voice startled Finn so badly that she jumped. Veronica noticed the reaction and looked around as well. "What is it?"

Finn's crossbow swept the jungle around them. "I saw something."

"The animal?"

"I don't know. It was too quick for me to see what it was."

By this time Roxton had noticed they weren't following and returned as well. His tone was prickly. "What are you two doing?"

Veronica and Finn moved to where Finn had seen the flash of beige, looking for signs to indicate what it was.

"Finn saw something," said Veronica.

The irritation disappeared instantly in the face of a challenge. He joined their search and after a few minutes, they found paw prints almost twice the size of Veronica's hand. They were not unlike the prints of a jaguar to Veronica and Finn's eyes, but to Roxton, he thought it more like a lion's.

"It's heading in the same direction we are," said Roxton as he crouched over the indentations in the soil.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite couldn't deny that Spain was beautiful and the freedom with which she could conduct her time there was just as wonderful. Though she was always with Locke or Condillac, or Blum, she had only to ask and they would hasten to do whatever she wished. It was intoxicating.

At the moment, they were all in the dining room of the Bella Inn, a small resting place for weary travellers set in a fishing village Marguerite didn't even know the name of. She had seen no postings and suspected it wasn't really a village so much as a loose collection of families on a forgotten plot of land. From the whitewashed buildings to the dirt roads and the simply-clad people, this seemed a place that Time had lost track of as the rest of the world continued on into the new century. She liked it immensely despite its lack of shopping opportunities.

The atmosphere at their table was merry and full of relief to be able to rest themselves in such comfortable surroundings. Blum and Condillac were recounting a few of their adventures with much laughter and many pauses to drain their wine glasses.

Marguerite listened happily, laughing along as Blum leaned over to pretend to whisper in her ear what he'd had to do to get out of being caught in bed with a butcher's wife. The table erupted into laughter at his imitation of the unfaithful wife's falsetto voice.

As Blum and Condillac began to argue over who would recount the next story, Locke took the opportunity to lean in to Marguerite and put his lips to her ear. While Blum had only pretended a whisper, Locke's deeper voice was meant only for Marguerite and the result of his words, unheard by any but her, left her cheeks a touch pinker and her pupils wide as she contemplated her response.

It turned out that Locke didn't require her to answer, not in words.

Two hours later found Marguerite looking out her window, listening to a wind-like whispering that drifted up from the wood of the old hotel. It had seen many years since it was built and it told her everything... even if she couldn't understand it yet. This gift of listening to the flow of energy was how Locke had tracked her down so many times. She was sure of it, which made her certain that it was only a matter of time before she could interpret everything she heard.

She closed her eyes, listening, trying to tap into the energy around her when suddenly the meaning of the whispers was clear and two words defined themselves in her mind.

'He comes.'

Marguerite turned to see if the disembodied voice was right and was unsurprised to see the doorknob to her room turn.

Locke let himself in without announcement and stared, his expression heated, expecting an attack of passion.

Marguerite was of two minds. Two sides of herself warred over whether to show him just how she felt about his intrusion, his insolent assumption, or whether to give in to one of the most basic instincts. If she gave in to the latter, it wouldn't be out of love or even attachment. Rather, it would be an act of curiosity and simple, biological desire. Experience pushed her to also acknowledge that it was best not to bite the hand that fed her. It wasn't particularly romantic, but for once she was neither thinking with her heart nor with the better part of her mind.

Locke was given a glimpse into the life Lord John Roxton might have had as Marguerite took the few steps to come to him and assaulted his lips with her own.

The next morning their group met for breakfast. Marguerite had not been the first one up, but desiring a few minutes alone to gather her thoughts, she was the first downstairs.

"You're up early," said Condillac as he noticed Marguerite sitting by herself. He sat across from her and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"So are you," she said absently, her gaze fixed on the window outside.

"Habit. I'm used to a nomad's life and getting up to move camp."

There was no reply and Marguerite continued staring out the window like she hadn't heard him.

"It was a hard life back then. Now I have enough gold and power to do what I like. I could have gotten it all on my own of course. I was quite the burglar in my day."

"Hmm."

Condillac grew ruffled with her lack of attention. He was immortal and had been so for a long time. He knew the secrets and skills that came along with immortality. This woman owed him respect for that at least. He didn't want her love, but felt himself entitled to her awe.

"Are you listening at all?"

Irritated at his interruption and now his tone, Marguerite bristled. "No, I'm not. Quite frankly, I don't care."

"Just because you're Locke's whore doesn't mean -"

"How dare you, you insolent bastard!"

"Am I interrupting, my dear?" asked Locke as he entered the dining area. He hadn't seen the argument, but there was no mistaking the looks on his two compatriot's faces. He did miss, however, the renewed flush of anger in Condillac's expression as he addressed Marguerite in so kindly a tone.

"Just a difference of opinions," said Marguerite. Locke bent to kiss her and though her first instinct was to back away, she held her place to accept the display of tenderness.

Condillac flushed red in jealousy and rage. He wiped his expression clear by the time Locke turned his attention back to him.

XXXXXXX

Ghanni had tracked many animals in search of food to feed his family and his people. The Zanga prided themselves on their ability to read the forest and know its secrets as well as they knew their own huts.

With their numbers up to fifteen thanks to the help of the three tree house occupants, the hunting party had split into three groups, each led by an experienced tracker. Ghanni led one, the Lord Roxton and Veronica led another, and Jarl headed the third, accompanied by three Zanga warriors and the newest blonde companion of Veronica. Ghanni hadn't yet learned the woman's name.

They had spread out in different directions as they attempted to roust out the new predator. Unfortunately, they weren't sure where to look for it first. Whatever the animal was, it too was a voracious hunter, and its tracks crisscrossed the entire area so much that it was impossible to tell which trail was the newest.

A fern moved though there was no wind. Ghanni froze and raised a hand to halt the rest of the men. He didn't need to look to know they had stopped.

As they waited and watched, there was the feeling of eyes watching though there was nothing to give away the watcher.

After a few minutes, the sensation of being observed dissipated and the hunting party continued moving.

XXXXXXX

Roxton paused, rifle at the ready. Sharp eyes scanned the surrounding forest as the others stopped and searched for the source of their unease. They had all felt the hairs stand up on their necks. Someone or something was watching them.

Veronica tapped his elbow, her body facing the direction they should look. There, not a few yards away, was a flash of tawny hide. It disappeared without a sound and reappeared on the other side of their group.

A yellow eye blinked at them for half a second and then that too was gone.

As one, Roxton, Veronica and the other warriors converged on the spot, their bodies still tensed for attack though instinct told them the creature had moved on.

"It's smart," said Veronica a little breathlessly. She was unused to being struck by such unease, the result of meeting a cunning predator that outwitted them twice now.

Roxton nodded as he read the tracks the animal left. There weren't as many as he expected and looking up a little, he noticed why. "It's been running us in circles... and I think it's been hiding its own tracks."

One of the Zanga warriors called for them, pointing to the trunk of a thick tree. His accent was thick as he carefully spoke the few English words he knew. "It climbs." His calloused fingers brushed a bit of bark that had been loosened by sharp claws.

They all looked up, half expecting to see the creature sitting in the tree, but there was nothing there, just a bunch of large branches practically forming a bridge between the various trees. Each branch could easily have supported five or more men. Even where there was a break in the intertwining limbs, the distance could be jumped by anything that knew how to climb. They followed the natural path and became even more disconcerted as they saw where it led.

At the edge of the trees, practically hidden by moss and plants was a rocky incline. The exposed rock provided more than enough footholds that would enable an animal to move along it without leaving one single track.

Gooseflesh rose on his arms as Roxton began to realize the intelligence of their new predator. Like a man-eating lion that had stalked his party in Africa, this creature was smart and determined. "It's testing us."

XXXXXXX

Jarl's group moved silently through the jungle, their spears ready. A few, including Finn, carried bows and arrows as well. Though Jarl didn't know Finn particularly well, he had quickly recognized that she was an experienced warrior and now treated her like any other hunter. He wasn't disappointed. She held her crossbow ready and silently sought for something that didn't belong to the quiet forest.

A leaf twitched and Finn swung her bow around, but it was just a small bird taking flight. The man closest to her gave her a bit of a grim smile. He too had been startled by the movement.

There was a rocky cliff wall to their left. They moved next to it, using the stone as a shield so they didn't have to watch for an attack from every angle. A few of the men kept glancing upwards, ensuring they weren't ambushed from above.

Jarl held up a hand and the group halted immediately. They all looked around for the reason for his defensive stance, but were unable to see or hear anything unusual.

They had just begun moving again when a rush of air and a mass of beige fur appeared. It happened too fast for anyone to know where the creature had come from and it was gone almost as fast.

The great cat - Marguerite or Challenger could have identified it even with the quickness of the moment as a Smilodon, commonly known as a sabre-toothed tiger or a close cousin - sailed out of hiding and landed on Finn and the warrior closest to her. The momentum of the hit forced her and the man onto their backs, their arms automatically coming up as they fell.

The cat turned before they could rise and made a lunge for them, grabbing Finn. Its canines missed her flesh, closing around her arm like a vice instead, but she was caught by the rest of its razor-like teeth.

She didn't have time to cry out or struggle before the world began to move at a nauseating speed.

Sky - tree - ferns - sky - ferns - sky - tree –

They all moved past her blurring vision too fast for her mind to make sense of, too fast for her to realize she was being dragged further and further away from the others. There was only the dizzying blur that was nothing compared to the fiery pain of shredding flesh in her arm.

Then, quite suddenly, it stopped and she knew nothing more of pain or sight. The black oblivion of unconsciousness had claimed her.

As she drifted, Finn thought she heard explosions and then voices. Deep down she knew she recognized who the speakers were, but it was like a dream. Her mind decided that it didn't matter anyway and it began to seek deeper recesses in which to hide, but it was interrupted. One of the voices - no, both of them - shouted at her. A man and woman were saying "Finn," and though she didn't recognize the name, she thought she ought to.

They told her to wake up and even through the dream, she knew feeling and gradually became aware that something was hitting her.

Roxton and Veronica breathed sighs of relief as Finn blearily opened her eyes and attempted to glare at them. Veronica's hand turned from tapping Finn's face to brushing the dirty, blond hair back as Roxton moved off to search for the creature.

Veronica and one of the hunters kneeled down to tend to Finn's wounds as Roxton and the others chased after the retreating cat. Roxton had shot at it, possibly even nicked it to get it to release Finn and as soon as it had, it disappeared into the jungle faster than one would expect such a robust animal to be capable of.

It wasn't long before the hunters returned to them, without their prey.

Roxton knelt down and though concern crinkled his eyes a bit, he was edgy and kept looking up, preferring to still be running after the cat than sitting next to Finn. It wasn't very chivalrous of him and he felt guilty even as he thought it, but it was how he felt nonetheless.

The desire to be in action, moving, killing, doing anything that would capture his mind and keep it from more painful directions. He had felt this way before and he became conflicted with its renewal.

Jarl grabbed a few leaves and bark off a plant Roxton didn't recognize and handed them to Veronica. She used a bit of sap from the bark to coat the bite marks and then used the leaves and a bit of clean cloth to bandage the wound. Finn hissed in pain as the cloth was tightened, but she valiantly got to her feet with some help. She wobbled a bit as the blood rushed from her head at the movement.

Veronica supported Finn's swaying form with concern. "We need to get her back to the village or the tree house. The village is closer, but I'd prefer the tree house."

Roxton grimaced a bit, again wishing to continue the hunt.

Though she was a bit green and thought she might vomit or pass out from the simple gesture, Finn nodded in favour of returning.

As Veronica began to lead Finn away, Roxton hesitated. He wanted to chase the animal.

He then noticed the rest of the hunters getting ready to continue on. They could not give up with such a threat roaming their territory. The thing had clearly developed a taste for human blood.

It reminded Roxton of the lions in Africa. When one became a man-eater, there was only one thing to do.

"Veronica," said Roxton, his eyes still glued to the Zanga warriors.

"Yes, Roxton?"

"I'm going with them."

She felt her whole body still as anger rose. Did he not see that his friend needed his help? "We need to get Finn to a doctor, Roxton."

"You can take her. It's not that far to the Zanga village."

"And what if that animal comes back or something else gets attracted by the blood?" She tried not to shout, which made her voice and stony expression harsher. "We need someone to watch our backs."

"He can take you back." Roxton's head dipped in the direction of one of the men who stood in between the bulk of the other warriors and the tree house residents.

Finn recognized him as the one who had also been knocked down by the enormous cat. He appeared all right, but when he walked towards them, she noticed how he favoured his right side. He too had been injured.

"We need more than one person to help if that thing comes back and you're the best shot with the rifle."

Roxton rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"You can catch up to the warriors after," said Veronica, managing to hold her temper, hoping to talk sense into him.

"If I leave now they might make the kill without me." As soon as it slipped from his tongue he knew he was in trouble. Veronica's face flushed and she puffed up like she was about to explode. Finn didn't say anything, but then she appeared too shocked, her mouth agape… and still a little green.

"Is that all this is about? You just want to make a kill?" Veronica demanded, voice shrill.

"No, it's not the only reason."

"Really? Then explain it to me because I think the Zanga are more than capable of carrying on without us. In case you didn't know, they managed to survive for a long time before you arrived on the Plateau."

"I'm going with them."

As angry as she was about Roxton leaving them so he could hunt, Veronica couldn't force him to return with them. She held back a sigh and retort and allowed the injured warrior and one of his friends to lead them back.

XXXXXXX

Roxton had indeed winged it. They found a tiny smear of blood on a few branches as they followed the weaving, complex trail the animal left behind. It obviously thought only of fleeing and not taken care to hide its route with the pursuing humans. Its paw prints were clear and deep in the moist soil.

Not until later in the afternoon did they begin to lose track of it once more when it began climbing trees and using rocks to hide its path again.

XXXXXXX

He let himself in again, but this time Marguerite didn't mind. She expected him. Since their first tryst, he'd come to her every night. As though their time together was limited, he'd made love to her throughout the night, proclaiming his love as they moved together.

She knew she could have told him to go away, but she knew better than to do something so foolish when everything she possessed came from him. Though she wouldn't have been disappointed to be left alone this evening at least, she knew she needed to gain his trust and keep him happy if she were to get what she wanted. It had been like that with every man she'd ever known. Well, all but one.

So once more she gave into his desire and allowed him to seduce her, glad at least that he gave as good as he got. Her sighs and moans were never forced.

They tumbled into the soft bed, kissing and pulling off clothes as they wound themselves together.

The next morning, they walked by a lovely shop and all she had to do was point out a necklace she liked. She found it hours later, wrapped and tucked with a pretty note by clever hands into her own handbag.

In the lobby of the hotel they were checking out of Locke was praised with affection. Marguerite kissed him and fawned over the note, allowing him to believe his power over her was growing.

Condillac saw the display and frowned anew.

XXXXXXX

Two days more yielded no results and the hunting party began to lose confidence that they would ever be able to get the cat. It was too fast, too clever, and far too comfortable in both the trees and on the ground. It was a true problem. They could not return to live in fear that this animal would take them all one by one.

It was when they sat around a campfire that Roxton had an idea. He turned to Jarl. "Have you ever hunted using a blind before?"

Jarl blinked in confusion. "Why would you hunt blind?"

Roxton smiled. "It's a platform or hut you hide in so the prey doesn't see you. I think it's time to lure this animal to us and take it on our own terms."

"We don't have anything like that." Jarl looked up, contemplating. "We can use the trees."

"We'll need a place that we can cover on all sides and we'll need bait."

"There are a few places like that. I can show you in the morning."

"The bait will be difficult." Roxton knew from experience there would be only one kind of food that would draw a man-eater of this calibre. "We'll need human blood."

XXXXXXX

The faint whispers were everywhere now... even though she could understand only one in a hundred meanings. For the most part, Marguerite ignored it, only tuning in when bored or in deep thought. It was soothing to have in the background of her mind, like the cadence of the sea or wind over a plain.

She was in the market, looking through some silks and leatherworks when she sensed unfriendly eyes on her. Since she couldn't see where her stalker was, Marguerite pretended not to notice and continued on with her shopping. Moving from stall to stall, she noted who was around her and how close.

No one in her peripheral vision alerted her attention, which meant the danger was likely directly behind her.

Moving to a jewellery vendor with a mirror, she pretended to try a few things on, peering closely into the reflective surface and taking stock of who she saw.

It took a few minutes, but then there he was. He was bent over a pile of fruit at the stand directly behind her. His simple, but stylish clothing would have marked him as a successful businessman. The outline of a pistol at his side declared him to be something else entirely.

Though he dressed and looked like a local, the man lifted his head every now and again to peer at Marguerite with blue, piercing eyes that were only too familiar. No doubt they recognized her as well.

There was a moment of fear as she realized he could follow her to the hotel or even shoot her in the crowded market easily. She felt foolish for not bringing a weapon with her, but the fact that her past might catch up with her again had slipped her mind. Her heart pounded in her throat and then something she didn't expect happened.

The undercurrent of energy running through the city became a roaring in her ears as she felt a rising anger at her helplessness.

Were anyone watching closely, they would have seen her eyes darken for a moment to an inky black.

Deciding she'd had enough now that she knew who had the audacity to follow her, Marguerite gave the jeweller back his trinkets, making him sigh in disappointment, and headed down the web of streets. She would deal with this man. He had no idea the danger he was in.

The assassin, Klaus Schroeder, had indeed recognized the brunette and though surprised to find her when he wasn't even looking for such a prize, he nonetheless took up the pursuit. She had eluded many people and it would be a great feather in his cap if he were the one to kill the British spy.

He caught up with the woman in the churchyard, or rather she waited for him there. Approaching warily, Klaus was only slightly reassured by her lack of weapons. She faced him as he drew closer, weaving through the headstones. There was no surprise in her expression. She had seen him earlier then.

"I didn't expect to see you here," said Klaus. Marguerite smiled sweetly at him. Despite her vulnerability, Klaus tensed at her smile. Something didn't seem right, but he pushed the feeling aside as absurd.

"I was going to say the same about you. I thought your cell was shut down six years ago."

"It was. I went into hiding. Officially… I'm retired."

"Then why did you follow me here?" Her fingers absently traced the lines of the headstone she leaned against. A whitewashed stone angel, Klaus noted with amusement.

"You, my dear, are too good a prize to let go even if I am trying to keep a low profile."

"I can appreciate that, but as for your prize, I'm afraid you're going to have to go without. I am feeling generous at the moment though. So I'll give you a chance to leave now and keep your life."

Klaus guffawed and pulled out his pistol. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm the one with the gun."

Marguerite knew she ought to be afraid and in another lifetime she would have been, but there was a roaring in her ears. A fearlessness she'd never felt before engulfed her.

She didn't even think about what she was doing, but in an instant, Klaus lay dead at her feet. The crackling electricity she'd directed at him stopped his heart, leaving only a few burns and the look of shock still on his face.

The electrical current she had pulled from the air around her dissipated through her body, leaving her invigorated and feeling more alive than she ever had. For a split second before the energy was gone, she knew that if she wanted she could destroy the whole city with a thought. When the moment was gone, so too was the inclination for destruction.

She didn't spare Klaus even a glance as she walked past him and left the churchyard. He wasn't worth her time or concern.

At the gate she closed her eyes briefly, tuning into the surrounding energy and by extending her senses, knew where her cohorts were. Locke was at the hotel, relaxing in his room. Perfect.

The people in the street avoided her as she strode purposefully back to the hotel. Many eyes widened and shifted away as though seeing something unseemly or deeply disturbing. No one approached and no one looked twice.

Blum was just exiting, on his way to the market, as Marguerite returned. He began to greet her, but froze in the act as he took a good look at her. His easy smile fell and he hurried out to conduct his business.

Locke was just where she knew he would be. Reading a book on his balcony, he appeared to be a gentleman of leisure, a landowner or wealthy heir. He looked up with a smile when he saw who had joined him.

"Marguerite, to what do I owe this wonderful surprise?" He set his book on his chair as he stood and came to her. "I thought you wouldn't be back until this evening."

In a few quick strides Marguerite crossed the rest of the distance and pulled Locke into an embrace. He reciprocated her passion immediately. Their lips moved roughly together, more with immediate desire than care. His hands quickly roved over her, wrinkling her clothing as he gathered the fabric to pull it off.

She allowed him to divest her of her shirt, but when Locke immediately moved to her undergarments, she placed her hands on top of his, halting his efforts. He tried again and was once more rebuffed.

Though he was much stronger than her, or thought himself so, Marguerite felt a heady sense of power that emboldened her to take what she wanted. It hadn't been there before, but after killing Klaus it filled her to the brim. She wanted what she wanted and now she would take it. She had energy to release and she would use Locke this time for her own release.

Nipping her ear, Locke tried to establish his own dominance, but Marguerite forced his head back. She held him away from her, her eyes dark. The command in her voice was undeniable. "Not so fast."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, each measuring the other. They were two tectonic plates pushing for space and one was going to have to give way.

Locke kissed her again, less forceful now. He would have questioned her actions afterwards, when the embraces were done and sense returned to them both, but he didn't really care. She'd come to him for the first time and he wouldn't ever question that.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite sighed in pleasure as she rolled off Locke. She pulled some of the soft blankets with her as sweat chilled her shoulders. They both breathed hard, completely satiated.

"My dear," said Locke when he could speak again, "you impress me more every day."

Marguerite smiled coyly, thinking that he didn't know half of what she was capable of. "Does that mean you'll try to impress me?"

"Certainly," he said with a grin. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

"Not yet." She smiled and he kissed her roughly, delighted by her, having no idea what he'd released.

She kissed him back, finding herself unstirred by his passion beyond the simple pleasure of being touched, the pleasure of satisfying raw sexual need. However, she no longer found herself wishing he were someone else or feel the need to please only him anymore. It didn't seem to matter. None of it did.

Gone was the Marguerite her tree house friends had known, blown away by the warm Spanish wind as the mercenaries travelled the countryside.

XXXXXXX

Their group surveyed their next potential target from the edge of a line of old olive trees. Their horses grazed in the overgrown grass behind them, sweat drying on their flanks as their tails swished at flies.

In front of the travellers stood an old farmhouse in the hills of Italy. The house had once been beyond beautiful. It had been extravagant.

A hundred years ago its land had produced quality wine and the profits from it had allowed the owners to buy up more land and build a working farm that produced almost everything.

Twenty years of greed and loose spending by the inheritors had left the potential of the land withered and unproductive. Shingles fell from the roof of the large estate and the plants around it were gnarled and dry.

Blum and Condillac surveyed the area with smiles, their excitement at acquiring new possessions almost palatable. They had seen this degraded building as they rode the countryside and hurried to tell Locke about it.

Though it didn't look like much, they'd heard a few locals describing some of the heirlooms of the property. It was believed that the withered old crone who now occupied the house had stashed what she could pull together from the estate in the basement and attics. Some had even suggested the old woman buried her family's remaining wealth beneath the grapevines that once had been their pride.

Locke looked to Marguerite with the same smile on his lips as Condillac and Blum. Locke didn't notice the frown that marred Condillac's face when he bent his attention to Marguerite. "What do you think, my dear?"

Marguerite stood with her arms crossed and head cocked as she took in the dilapidated buildings. "It's a waste of time."

Her harsh words were like a pin to a balloon for Blum. "You think so?"

Condillac frowned. He wanted to retort, but he recognized the expectant look on Locke's face.

Locke just raised a brow as he waited for an explanation. Marguerite, despite how little she cared about giving him what he wanted, read his expression and provided him his answer.

"There won't be anything left in there but dust and broken furniture. Rumours are just rumours, especially when talking about a rich family in a poor countryside. You can't trust them. If there was anything left in there worth putting effort into, the old woman would have sold it by now." With that, she turned back to her horse, neither looking to see nor caring if the others followed.

Locke turned to watch her, his eyes alight with amusement and admiration. Yes, he had been telling the truth when he said he liked her spirit. He loved it even more now that she was part of his group. The feeling of having her at his side was intoxicating to him. It gave him a feeling of great power to bend her will even if it was through trickery and the natural changes that came with immortality. It made him feel like he had command over the wind and rain, the sea, or the very earth beneath his feet for those were all things he compared her to.

"I think she would have kept family heirlooms out of pride," said Condillac. He crossed his own arms and turned back to the estate, growing mulish in the face of this woman's worthless opinion. What does she know? "Those will be worth looking for."

Marguerite snorted, petting her mare. "And how would you know what she would or wouldn't do? Have you met her?"

"Have you?"

"As a matter of fact," she said with a smirk, "yes, I did."

Condillac didn't betray his surprise, instead, he gave her a smile that was more feral than friendly. "Ah, so that's why you want us to leave this place alone. You feel sorry for the woman. How strange. You don't seem the sympathetic type."

Eyes narrowing, Marguerite felt her temper boil. "Or perhaps I'm smarter than you are and don't wish to sit around here, chasing after dusty trinkets when there are bigger and better prizes elsewhere."

Locke kept his eyes on Marguerite, the same proud smile on his lips as she gracefully swung into the saddle and rode off without them. When he turned back to Condillac and Blum, his expression darkened.

Condillac realized his mistake and though he felt resentful, like a colonel being demoted and scolded like a new recruit, he recognized the danger in Locke's eyes and pasted an indifferent expression on his face.

"She -"

"You are not to antagonize her," said Locke angrily, his expression suddenly blacker than soot. "I worked too hard for you to drive her away out of some petty disagreement."

There were many things Condillac wished to say, but he held himself back sullenly. Locke's words and tone were warning, but he knew from experience that his leader could turn disturbingly furious in a flash. Instead, he would bid his time and prove the woman wrong. Perhaps that would restore the dynamics of the group and put him back in his rightful place at Locke's right hand.

Condillac and Blum stayed at the edge of the orchard while Locke remounted and followed in Marguerite's dust. Condillac watched him go, disgust pinching his face.

"Well, that's that," said Blum. "Do you want to see if the garden has any fresh mint? I want to try making -"

"We don't have time," Condillac interrupted. Blum looked at him, confused. "You and I are going to get that old woman's money."

Blum shook his head, frightened to think what would happen if they disobeyed orders. "But Locke -"

"He told us not to antagonize his new pet, nothing more." Condillac turned his scathing gaze from Blum's widened eyes. For all his years on Earth, Blum was still quite innocent, his desires and needs only as extravagant as his newest recipe's ingredients or the lure of a pretty woman.

"I don't know if we should." Blum, not eager to anger either of his companions, looked back in the direction Locke had disappeared and again to Condillac.

"Why? Are you afraid of Locke... or Marguerite?" His voice was filled with derision, but Blum's answer was solemn.

"I don't know if I'm afraid of her, but I'd still rather not make either of them angry."

Condillac laughed. "She hasn't been immortal for more than a few weeks. What can you possibly be afraid of? We'll worry when she reaches her hundreds."

Blum looked at his friend, incredulous. "Have you not seen her? She may not be as old as us, but she's already more like Locke than I thought she would be in fifty years."

"She hasn't gotten that powerful," Condillac scoffed.

"Oh, no?" Blum folded his arms. "She's already quicker to anger than she used to be. She seems to know things she couldn't, and..."

"And what?"

"I – I've seen her eyes change colour."

"A trick of the light," said Condillac with a laugh.

Blum frowned.

"So, are you going to help me or not? We can do it without telling them and if there really is nothing, no one need know but us."

Blum thought hard about it. There was no reason he couldn't help Condillac and stay in Locke's good graces. If their endeavours yielded nothing, then Locke would not be told and nothing would come of it. If they were successful, they would return with prizes and he would not be angry at the mild disobedience.

"Well?" Condillac was waiting.

Blum nodded, making Condillac smile.

"We'll put his bitch in her proper place." Blum frowned at Condillac's words, but didn't say anything.

Though Blum too had noticed Locke's preference for Marguerite and felt the woman to be potentially dangerous, Blum couldn't feel this sentiment as strongly as his friend. He harboured no resentment if Locke took a woman to stand at his side and Marguerite - a woman who thoroughly enjoyed the finer things in life like his cooking - was hardly a threat to him.

A sideways glance at Condillac's tense form and Blum realized that his friend couldn't say the same.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite and Francois Locke slept soundly together in their comfortable room at the Italian hotel in Arezzo. Their sheets were twisted around their cooling bodies, their hair tousled. This hotel was larger and more richly furnished. Closer to a shopping district, the room also contained several boxes, the fruits of a shopping day with Marguerite.

With a happy sigh, Locke rolled over, draping his arm across Marguerite's side. Her lips lifted upwards in a tiny smile and she slumbered on. Despite the tender position they were in, it was fortunate that Lock couldn't know what made her smile. In the deep sanctuary of sleep where she hid even from herself, it was another man who held her.

Out in the darkness Condillac and Blum rode out towards the crumbling estate. It took longer than they thought it would, their horses having to pick their way carefully over the road, but it was still late at night when the outline of the house came into view.

The blanket of night covered the high walls and surrounding trees, making it look like it may have years ago before its degradation. It was only when they drew closer and were able to see holes and falling stones in the moonlight that the years of neglect became obvious.

The doors were locked, but Condillac was more skilled with rendering locks useless than most. The front door swung open easily, though with a bit of a creak.

As soon as they entered, the men smelled dust, grime, and the musky scent of urine and faecal matter. There was a squeaking in the corner and Blum turned in time to see a rat's tail disappear around a doorway.

"We'll check the attic first and move down from there," said Condillac.

XXXXXXX

It was dark and his seat had become increasingly uncomfortable throughout the day, but Roxton didn't leave.

He and the rest of the warriors were positioned around their bait, a collection of bloody bandages that had been fetched from the village, blood and meat from a tapir the men caught, and two live goats tied to a stake in the ground. It was a bloody mess, like something from a nightmare.

There was movement down below. Roxton looked down, but it was just one of the goats shaking off a few flies. The frightened animals had bleated pitiably when they were first brought within the circle of blood and carnage, but they grew quiet as the day wore on.

Bored and tired, Roxton leaned back against the tree. He didn't realize his eyes were closed until his mind began to drift into senseless thoughts and feelings. He started thinking about what he had hunted in Africa, how little it had all meant once William was gone, how bloodlust had overtaken him and left him feeling hollow. The monks at the temple he'd taken refuge in taught that desire was the path to suffering. He wondered if it was wrong to want a life with the ones you love.

Something stirred at the edges of his consciousness and Roxton jumped a bit as he woke. Though the circle of trees was perfectly silent, the goats were awake and looking around themselves. Roxton paid attention to them and looked as well, hoping to distinguish something through the blackness.

Huge paws moved over the ground, careful not to make a sound as they moved closer and closer to the delicious scent of blood and fear. Big yellow eyes scanned the surrounding foliage, looking for the source of the scent of the live prey the great cat had grown to prefer. Humans were in the area, their scent almost overpowered by the sweet smell of spilled blood and the small prey animals that were now the focus of the hunter's eyes.

The cat was hungry and with a festering wound, the promise of an easy meal was too tempting to pass up.

The cat was within ten yards of the two goats, his eyes stuck on them when a noise from above drew his attention. He looked up, ears pricked and saw a man in the tree above him.

The cat snarled and prepared to leap.

XXXXXXX

Condillac threw down his trowel and cursed.

They had searched the house, moving all the way down to the basement to dig in the hardened soil in a last desperate attempt. The stone walls were empty besides dust and rat droppings. A few brass rings from disintegrated casks littered the dirt floor and now so too did numerous holes and churned soil from Condillac and Blum's search.

"Not so loud," admonished Blum. He shot a nervous look up the wooden stairs, but there was no sound from above. "What if she comes to investigate?"

Rolling his eyes, Condillac sat on a dusty wine barrel. It made a depressingly hollow sound as his heel thumped against it.

"If we can wander the entire house for a whole day, I don't think she'll come down now."

"Well, it looks like Mar -"

"Don't you dare say it!" Condillac pointed a shaking finger at Blum, who silenced immediately. His features were tight with rage and there was a definite glint of unreasonableness in his eyes. "There has to be something here. That old woman is just hiding it well."

Blum waved a frustrated hand around at the churned soil, leaning his own shovel against the wall. "There's nothing here. If there ever was, it's long gone."

"No." Condillac stood, a new and determined set to his expression and tensed body, and climbed the stairs. He didn't bother to quiet his footfalls. Let the woman come and see us, he thought as he entered the sun-lit rooms of the main floor.

Sure enough, the old woman came from one of the rooms on the upper level to see what was making such noise. She had no servants, friends, or family to search for her. She was an ancient and stooped creature, leaning on a cane to keep her body from toppling over. Her eyes were as pale as her curled hair that slipped from the scarf around her head, but still bright with a wary intelligence.

She paused on the grand staircase that lead to the main floor and front door as a large man came into view from another room, the one that lead to the basement. His flushed face was filled with madness.

Full of the family pride that kept her going for so many years, she refused to shrink from him, though her hand trembled as it clutched her scarf tighter. It was helplessness born of great age alone which made her face taught with fear and she wished for her youth once more so that she could properly stand up to these intruders.

"Where is it?" Condillac's voice bounced off the crumbling walls, sounding much louder than it was though he was already shouting. As though it was his house and not the woman's, Condillac strode across the foyer and up the stairs to stand in front of her.

Refusing to be cowed by this man who would make her a victim in her own home, the refuge she had fought her own family to keep safe, she asked her own questions in Italian instead of answering his. "Who are you?"

"I asked you a question, woman!"

Her head lifted a bit higher. "Ciò che sono lei facendo nella mia casa?" (What are you doing in my home?)

Condillac grabbed the woman's frail arm, not caring that the motion caused her to drop her cane. He didn't even notice how her tiny body trembled with growing fear and age. His nose practically hit hers as he shouted into her startled face. "Where is your money, your jewellery, your gems?"

The woman's lips pursed and Condillac snapped.

"Where are they?" His hands rose to grip her upper arms painfully tight and he shook her until her head snapped back.

"Th – there is nothing!" She finally said in stilted English. She had to rely on the stranger to keep her upright, but she feared he would let her drop with her truthful answer.

"There is! You must have something stashed away. Where is it?"

"Gone. I pay taxes and for food. There is nothing left!"

"Where?" Condillac's voice was a roar this time. He ignored Blum's open-mouthed stare and the tiny voice of warning in his own mind.

Disgusted when she remained silent, Condillac let go, forcing the old woman away from himself with more force than he intended.

Her legs were weak and as soon as the man let go she could feel them collapse. Her trembling knees buckled and she was helpless to stop it. The floor, crimped into treacherous angles, rose fast to meet her. The first impact stunned her, caused her head to spin just as much as the rolling from one stair to another did. Instinctively she reached out a hand to stop herself and felt the bone snap. Luckily there was no time for pain as her head hit yet another plank of stone.

Blum stared down at the dead woman in surprise. Her eyes were open and staring at him as though accusing him of her murder.

Condillac stopped his raging and stood just as shocked, staring down at the corpse. His eyes were wide and he breathed fast as the realization of what he'd done crept over him. He was no innocent, but killing defenceless old women wasn't something he'd ever wanted on his conscience.

Blum's lips moved, but no noise came.

XXXXXXX

There was a stirring of excitement and anticipation in the village. Everyone rushed as quickly as they could to the entrance and crowded around, clamouring for a better position to see the returning warriors.

Veronica and Finn waited outside with Assai, at the entrance to her house. Assai's attempt at stoicism was marred by her fidgeting hands and the slight bouncing on her heels as she watched for her husband in the crowd.

Jarl appeared first, his smile wide as he and Assai rushed to each other and they embraced. They were the picture of happiness.

Roxton and the rest of the warriors followed, four of them carrying an enormous cat tied to a sapling. The dead animal generated a great deal of interest, men and women coming close to touch the claws, the teeth, and the thick fur. Many of the children stared at it in wonder. A few cried and turned to their mothers.

"So, you got your prize," said Veronica. Her arms were crossed and she had to work hard to not show just how upset she still was with Roxton. He seemed to realize this and gave her a wee smile, managing to look a little apologetic.

"We did. How are you, Finn?"

Looking very much like she wanted to hit him, Finn didn't try to hide her glare. With her leg and arm heavily bandaged, she made a pathetic picture. Her tone was particularly surly. "Fine."

He tried not to let it get to him, but unlike when his brother died, he had friends who counted on him for survival and he knew he'd let them down so he could have a thrill. He did feel guilt, but not enough to make him regret his decision or think that he might not do it again. Why would he? His actions had not only been successful in taking his mind off his loss for a bit, but it had also saved their allies from a dangerous predator.

Finn could see he had no regret and it made her angrier. Her eyes narrowed further.

"Come on, Finn, cheer up! We got rid of a threat, helped the Zanga and no one else got hurt." His smile tried in vain to lift the spirits of the two women. He felt his good cheer waver and then grow instantly cold as Finn crossed his arms and said something he would never have expected and would never forget.

"I'm glad Marguerite isn't here to see what you've become." Shoulders straight and head high, Finn turned and disappeared into the crowd with as much dignity as her hobble would allow.

In the ensuing silence, Roxton looked to Veronica, his face still holding the look of a stunned deer. Veronica might have laughed at the expression if she weren't simultaneously angry, worried that he would erupt into anger and worried that the mention of Marguerite's name would shatter his moment of relief.

Roxton didn't know what to say and as the silence between him and Veronica stretched on, he realized she was at as much of a loss as he was. Snapping his mouth shut, he chose to retreat into Assai's hut.

The next morning didn't prove to be any better. If anything, Finn's resentment had grown and Roxton's mixture of indignation, hurt - from more than just Finn's words - and guilt were warring even more brutally inside his mind. He could barely see the path as they walked home.

Veronica alone could put her feelings aside in an attempt to keep the peace, but it was difficult. Just by a look from one or the other, she was asked to take sides and when the anger of one left her with nothing she could say, the silent conflict of the other would provide her with nothing at all to work with. Their trip back was mostly a silent one.

Veronica was rather glad to talk to Challenger about the results of one of his experiments later on.

"And you see this here?" Challenger's eyes were light and his face uplifted as he pointed to a bunch of writing in his journal and then to a petri dish full of a nauseating green fuzz.

Veronica nodded, but her eyes had long since lost the ability to focus. For a moment, she had the sensation of staring at two opposite walls, like a chameleon. She blinked and tried to straighten her vision.

Challenger noticed the distraction. Disappointed, he lowered the dish and took a closer look at the young woman. She was paler than when she'd left. "My dear, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just tired."

That her drooping shoulders was more than exhaustion was evident, but Challenger didn't push the issue. He trusted Veronica enough to tell him in her own time if it was necessary. Ideas were already forming in his mind despite her evasion and he suspected Roxton's attitude had degraded in their absence. It wasn't particularly surprising to Challenger. Emotions weren't his area of expertise, not even close, but even he could tell that everyone was hurting.

Challenger continued to work, feeding some of his insect collection and his newest batch of lab mice. It was a good couple of minutes before the silence was broken.

"I wish she hadn't left," said Veronica sadly. She picked up Challenger's pencil and was fiddling with it, her weary eyes fixed on the table top.

Challenger nodded. There was no need to ask who "she" was, though he was surprised at the vulnerability in the simple sentence. He almost laughed, thinking he'd never expected to see the day when Veronica would miss Marguerite. Then again, it had been a long while since the two women bickered with open and complete dislike. He wondered when they had started to see past their differences, but couldn't think of any particular day when they suddenly weren't always fighting. It had just sort of happened without notice.

"I'm sure she did what she thought was best."

"It was Locke. I know it was. I just don't understand how she couldn't see through his lies. He'll kill her like he tried to last time as soon as her back is turned. I bet he even got the rest of her jewels this time."

"Maybe." Challenger's tone was carefully neutral, but Veronica wasn't fooled.

"You don't think so?" she demanded.

With a sigh, Challenger tossed the last bit of food in to his mice and sat next to Veronica. "Well, I agree Locke is probably behind all this, but I suspect that if Locke did get anything from Marguerite, it wasn't treasure and he got it because Marguerite let him. She was very hurt by what she thought Roxton had done. You know that."

Veronica nodded.

"She went with him willingly, knowing full well who and what he is. Either she thinks she can outsmart him to get what she wants this time or she chose to ignore his more unseemly qualities."

"Yeah, and I hope she's happy with that decision," said Veronica with a sudden burst of anger. With muffled sob, she pressed her hands to her face.

Challenger frowned, once again wondering about their lost companion, and placed a comforting hand on Veronica's shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was all he could think to do until her tears dried up.

XXXXXXX

The house had long since grown dark again, the shade of night cooling off the brick and enshrouding the estate in a mystique. There were no birds singing anymore and there had only been the old woman to provide humanly noise to the haunted halls.

Her broken body lay where it had fallen, hidden by a sheet now. It had been all Condillac could think to do. His heart quailed at the idea of picking up her tiny body and burying it as he knew he should. The woman would probably lie there until her bones were dust. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care.

Condillac sat on the bottom step, his head in his hands as his mind moved in circles. Blum had left long ago, cheerful again once his shock wore off, and Condillac was grateful for the silence and time alone.

None in their little band would scold or be horrified by what he'd done, but it was a reprehensible deed in his own mind, which was strange. Had they not done things just as damnable under Locke's direction? He had personally killed before and had even helped Locke in his first attempt to drown Marguerite. He had left his own life behind in part because he'd shown too little care towards a young girl. In truth, that was putting the situation in the kindest light possible, especially since her brother had died in the effort to avenge her honour. So why did he feel guilt now?

A woman's voice - one which grated on his raw nerves like lemon in a fresh wound - broke into Condillac's thoughts. Marguerite's tone was strong, like a commander or a queen, not scolding but deeply displeased and haughty.

"So, how much gold did you get from her blood?"

He turned to glare at the insolent woman who melted from the blackness. She must have entered from one of the side doors though that level of stealth was unnecessary given the lack of people in the area and the way her black dress and hair blended with the night. Had he not hated her so much in that instant, Condillac may have been struck by her mysterious presence, may have even tried to tempt her from Locke's bed to his. As it was though, he wished her death to be violent and painful as she teased him.

"Tell me, Condillac," she stepped closer to lean on the banister at his shoulder, "was your trouble worth it?"

"Silence, you whore."

The slap stung his face so quickly that he didn't have time to so much as raise a defensive hand. His head turned with the force of it and he thought he felt a tooth loosen.

He looked up at Marguerite with surprise. No woman had ever hit him, not even his mother. Her eyes were as black as her dress, more so, as they shone like liquid in the dark.

_Dangerous_, his mind whispered to him and he believed it. He realized his mouth was slightly agape and quickly closed it.

"You will not speak to me like that ever again." With a glare, Marguerite moved away from him and kneeled at the corpse, pulling the sheet back to look at the stiffened body. Her authoritative stance was eerily like Locke's.

Condillac expected her to show some emotion over the woman's demise, but there was nothing beyond a cold contemplation. It surprised and for some reason he couldn't fathom also disturbed him. He couldn't help but think that Blum was right about this woman.

"How did you know where I was?" Condillac watched her tilt her head like a detective looking at a puzzle as she took in the old woman's injuries. Condillac shuddered.

"Blum told me." She replaced the sheet and stood once more. She appeared calm and unconcerned, but Condillac watched her warily. There was something about her that he could not trust. "You came here to prove me wrong."

He didn't answer. It was a statement, not a question. They stared at each other, searching for something neither could put into words.

Finally, Condillac looked away. His eyes automatically fell on the covered body.

"Aren't you upset that I killed her?"

Her voice was so dispassionate that Condillac had no trouble believing her. "No."

He couldn't help but look back up at her, his brows pinched, his eyes confused. "Why not? I thought you knew her."

Marguerite shrugged. "Why should that make a difference?"

She stared back at him as he felt the tendrils of unease mix with the hatred he'd started feeling whenever in her presence. That was not the reaction he had expected. It unnerved him how much she'd changed since the end of her mortal life.

"What?" Marguerite was made uncertain by the way Condillac was looking at her, like she was something he'd never seen before. His answer, which she didn't understand, was almost a whisper.

"You changed faster than I thought you would."

Confused, Marguerite let his strange mood pass from her care and told him what she'd originally intended to.

"It's time to go. Locke doesn't want to stay any longer in case people start asking questions." Her eyes strayed to the covered body. "It's only a matter of time before someone finds this."

Her footsteps were light, leaving trails in the dirty floor. She hadn't yet gotten to the door when Condillac's voice stopped her.

"I'm sorry."

Not sure she'd heard him correctly, Marguerite halted and turned, the darkness all but hiding them from each other's eyes. He still sat on the bottom stair, his head turned to watch her. She couldn't see his expression to read it.

"I didn't know it would be like this."

Marguerite's brows rose in surprise. Assuming he meant the dead woman, she shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We just have to leave sooner than anticipated."

As Marguerite's shadowy presence disappeared, Condillac looked after her, feeling for the first time in his life that he had done something he really shouldn't have. Somehow, something in the universe had been pulled in the wrong direction and he had helped in starting this unbalance. Thinking of how Marguerite had appeared to him on their first meeting and the haughty, dangerous creature she had become, he knew what it was.

"I meant changing you," he whispered to the empty room. His head dropped into his hands. "Forgive me, I didn't know what I was doing."


	6. Forever Mine Forever Yours

Thank you for reviewing & the kind remarks! I hope I don't disappoint. Remember that the more people who review, the quicker a new chapter comes out!

XXXXXXX

Challenger sighed as he tied yet another bit of rope that would hold his newest attempt at a weather-proof canvas to the windmill's arms. It had been a long day already and this was just one of the chores he anticipated finishing. He still wanted to do some repairs on their pipes and replenish their gunpowder supply while he had the chance.

Veronica and Finn were helping him for the moment, but would have to work on the garden and do some gathering to replenish their general stocks. With one less person in their group and Roxton gone hunting most of the time, there were a number of things that had been pushed aside for later.

Roxton was hunting alone... again. It was the third time in one week and though they would have liked his help with other things, no one had the heart or the daring to suggest he change his pace or focus. Of course, even he couldn't simply hunt for a week straight and he came back every day with other supplies as well as some fish and traded goods.

"What do you think she's doing right now?" Finn asked Challenger as they leaned against the canvas, pulling the rope tight. The question was apropos of nothing so Challenger looked around with some confusion and noted Veronica on his side of the windmill, spreading out their next bit of fabric.

"Veronica is right over there," said Challenger. He gritted his teeth as he tied the rope as tight as he could and they both let go with relief. His arms ached from the work so he shook them to get the blood flowing.

As Finn shook out her own aching arms, she clarified her question. "I meant Marguerite."

Challenger paused, utterly uncertain what to say. Roxton was still so upset about her leaving that he couldn't stand to hear her name or be reminded in any way of her. Veronica was almost as bad. Finn, having not known Marguerite for nearly as long, seemed less devastated by the loss, but still Challenger didn't want to upset her. His concern was lightened a bit and he smiled as she looked up at the clouds and spoke as though Marguerite were on some happy vacation or grand adventure from a book.

"I bet she's having fun right now," she said lightly.

"Oh?"

"She mentioned she likes to shop."

Challenger couldn't help but laugh at that as he gathered up more rope. "Yes, that she does."

"I bet she's in some expensive store right now."

There was a moment of silence as the light of imaginings died from Finn's eyes. Challenger wondered what was going through her unusual mind.

"What made you think of her?" Challenger asked when the silence had begun to stretch. He looked over his shoulder. Veronica was still busy with the canvas and hadn't heard a word of their conversation.

Finn shrugged. "I was looking at some of her things this morning. I know no one else likes to think about her, but I can't help it sometimes. You guys are the first real friends I've had in a long time and it makes me feel closer to her." Her voice grew a bit more melancholy. "I wonder if she thinks of us."

Challenger, being a man of truth and a scientist, had no answer for her beyond a hand on her shoulder. "I miss her too, Finn."

XXXXXXX

As it turned out, Marguerite didn't think of them much. Her days were busy with travel or trickery, her nights with revelry and sex - not making love or even lust but simply the bodily action. Even if she'd had time to think of her past friends, she probably wouldn't have.

The changes immortality were supposed to take years to fully develop were so complete that even Roxton may have had difficulty seeing his lover in this woman's face.

Locke at least was content, if a bit surprised by the thoroughness of his success.

Shanghai was much as Marguerite had remembered it with its dirty alleys and less scrupulous characters. She supposed there were areas that were more friendly to travellers, but those places had never been frequented by her. This trip was no exception.

Beggars and pickpockets lined the alley even in the dim light of the cloudy day. Their missing teeth, filthy skin, and shabby clothing were frighteningly obvious without the night to conceal the worst of life's degradation. Many of the adults were on the streets because of chance - a missing limb or appendage thanks to some factory or other working accident - but the majority were simply the result of little education and no learned skills in a harsh market. Children of all ages made the streets their home as well. Orphans, runaways and those simply born to the life formed little gangs that constantly changed and moved as dynamics and needs shifted. Old members left for gaol or new hunting grounds, or died as new children moved in.

Marguerite watched with a smirk as a young girl deftly lifted a man's money from his pocket while one of her cohorts was caught for a similar act down another alley. The girl was likely seven years old, but didn't appear much bigger than a large toddler. Her brown eyes were sharp and even calculating as they moved from person to person as she escaped. She ran by Marguerite, her too serious expression growing more wary when she passed and her eyes met Marguerite's.

Despite their own infinitely more kempt appearance, Marguerite and Blum moved through the streets and alleys as though they belonged there as much as the beggars. The only thing that marked them as different was the way they held themselves and their cleanliness. Their steps were quick and purposeful. Blum did not look boyish as he usually did. Today his expression was cold and business-like as they carried on their mission, searching for the side entrances of Shanghai Xan's warehouse.

"Are you sure it's this alley?" Blum asked, his dark eyes darting everywhere.

Marguerite nodded. "It's here."

"Wouldn't he have moved since the last time you were here?"

"No." Marguerite shook her head. "Xan's mob is strong enough that they don't need to move. No one would dare defy them."

The corner of Blum's lips turned up for a second. "No one except you."

She smiled too and shrugged. "Locke wanted to find treasure. I can't think of anywhere better. I'd still like to know what Mordren traded for the Ourorboros." She sighed in real regret. "He's not likely to have that here, though."

Blum shrugged. He didn't care much for mysterious artefacts or even the treasure the others always sought. "You promise Locke won't find out I helped you?" he asked suddenly with a note of fear. "He forbid -"

A heavy wooden door opened and a young Asian man exited, looking around as he did. There was a pistol at his side and the outline of a knife or two up his sleeves.

Quick on her feet, Marguerite saw the man before he saw them and pulled Blum behind her as she ducked into a doorway. After a moment, Marguerite peeked out, Blum's head above hers as he mimicked her. A second man exited the door. He was equally armed. Both looked dangerous, able to kill without weapons.

A wicked smile full of anticipation spread across Marguerite's face. "This is it."

XXXXXXX

The day started out warm, but the rising heat and high humidity started a rainstorm. It was not terribly strong or dangerous, just wet enough to give a chill to the humans.

Most stayed inside or sought shelter.

Finn, having been out since dawn to first garden then do some fishing, was not one of them. She enjoyed fishing, but it was mostly because Roxton had decided to stay in the tree house.

She ignored the water dripping down her nose in favour of watching for the ripples and darker shadows in the small lake that indicated the movement of fish. A few tiny flashes of silver gave away the presence of minnows, but they weren't what Finn waited for.

With a sigh, Finn dragged in her line and tossed it in further, a piece of bark attached to the line ensuring the hook wouldn't just sink to the bottom. The silver metal wasn't visible once below the surface. The usual clear blue had turned a greenish black with the clouds blocking the sun. It was a dismal scene.

Samuel Roberts and his sister, Marina, were likewise out in the rain and not far at all from Finn's fishing spot. In fact, they walked by less than a few feet from her. The splash from her hook hitting the water drew Sam's attention and once he saw who made the sound, he had to turn back.

Marina looked back in confusion with the lack of footsteps behind her.

She turned to see her brother entranced, his gaze unwavering from a thin blonde sitting by the waterside. Like a moth to a flame, he drew closer, his feet making no sound in the soft earth.

Marina's eyes widened in alarm, but it was too late to call him to stop. All she could do was stand back, partially hidden by some shrubs, and keep watch.

Sam couldn't believe his luck. He thought - foolishly it seemed now - that the gods had forsaken him for his misdeeds, that all hope was lost with his expulsion from the village. Now, he had before him a vision of utter perfection. Though he didn't know her name or who she was, hadn't even seen her face yet, something in him knew she was made just for him.

It never occurred to him that his sister hadn't followed.

"You shouldn't be out in this weather," said a man behind Finn.

Whirling at the unfamiliar voice, Finn dropped her fishing line and snatched up her crossbow. Though his eyes widened at the move, the handsome, tanned stranger held his ground. He held up his empty hands.

"Who are you?" Finn demanded.

"Samuel Roberts." He smiled at Finn's look of surprise, marvelling at her perfect, sweet features. He knew well enough that his appearance didn't match his European name. His skin alone was darker than the soil his tribe claimed to have come from. His clothing was made of raptor leather, beads and the odd colourful feather adorning the otherwise dull brown and signifying his skills not only as a warrior in his tribe but also as a ranking leader. His eyes and slightly more angular facial features were perhaps the only part of his physique that betrayed his foreign father's line. His eyes, unlike the rest of his tribe's, were a light and brilliant blue, but that's what happened when one's father came from overseas and spread his seed with the locals.

Finn eyed the man carefully, but he seemed harmless enough and her frown melted into a smile. She even found herself slightly attracted. He was handsome and looked at her like he admired her greatly.

"And," said Samuel, "will I learn your name?"

Finn's smile widened against her will and she moved closer to shake the stranger's hand. He held it tenderly and just a bit longer than usual. "Finn."

XXXXXXX

The rain, though its strength varied throughout the day, had not stopped by the time the sun dipped closer to the western border.

Veronica and Challenger periodically stuck their heads out of a window or stood on the balcony, watching for Finn. It worried them that she had been gone all day. Everyone else had stayed inside, only venturing out for firewood or a few pieces of coveted fruit.

Veronica was in the kitchen and Challenger had just finished setting the table for dinner when they were surprised by the sound of laughter coming from the rising elevator. They recognized Finn's voice, but there was an unfamiliar man as well. They looked to each other, only to see the same confusion mirrored back.

Finn exited the elevator, still beaming as Veronica gave her a questioning look, one brow quirked.

"This is Samuel Roberts. Sam, this is Veronica, the one I was telling you about, and this is Challenger."

Sam and Veronica shook hands. "You have a beautiful home, Miss. Layton." Sam looked around appreciatively as he stepped back, closer to Finn's side. She couldn't help it, Veronica smiled at the compliment and gracious address.

"Thank you."

Sam's eyes lingered on the gun rack where the gleaming rifles sat as he and Challenger shook hands. Roxton had expertly polished the weapons the night before. "Your weapons are in especially good order."

"Roxton would appreciate that," said Challenger. Though his tone was polite, he carefully sized this newcomer up. His gaze lingered. Something didn't seem quite right with this man.

"Ah, this is the Lord Roxton that you mentioned?" Sam asked, turning to Finn.

Finn coloured a bit under the intensity of Sam's gaze. They had only known each other for a few hours, but already she could feel an attraction to him and he made no attempts to hide that he felt the same. His bright eyes fixed on her steadily like he'd not seen anything so appealing in his life and he listened to her every word with rapt attention. It was flattering beyond her ability to ignore.

Challenger looked from Finn to Sam quickly, not liking what he saw. While he had no objection to Finn falling in love, he knew all too well the danger of obsession, especially over someone they knew so little about.

"Where did you say you were from, Mr. Roberts?"

"Please, just Sam. My village is about a three week walk northeast from here. You probably have never met any of my people. With rare exceptions, we rarely leave our territory. The jungle and the rivers provide us with everything we need."

"Your mother's family is from the Plateau?"

Sam smiled. "That's right."

"I'm sorry, but your name and accent don't..." Challenger stopped, uncertain how to politely say that his European demeanour didn't match his wild appearance. Sam laughed before the scientist had to strain too hard. Though Sam cared little for pleasing the man, it was necessary to dissipate his suspicion if he was to spend time with the object of his affection.

"My father was an explorer, half Swedish and half English. My mother, however, is from here."

"I thought he could stay with us until he decides to continue on," said Finn, hope shining in her.

Veronica smiled, seeing no problems with the idea. "Of course."

Challenger's eyes shifted to Samuel again, a trifle wary that he should have garnered such an offer from Finn so quickly. "Where are you headed?"

Samuel shrugged, pretending the question didn't irritate him. Luckily the lies came easily to him. They flowed as easily as his breath. "I don't really know. I'm looking for my father and all I have for direction is to go southwest. I hope to continue once I've restocked my supplies and this rain stops."

"Well," Veronica said happily, "you are welcome to stay here until you're ready."

"Good," said Finn. "We're going to need another plate for dinner."

XXXXXXX

The next day Challenger, Finn, and Veronica went out to help Samuel collect his plant and mineral supplies. Roxton went hunting with the promise of bringing back something Samuel could take with him. Finn was glad to see him go and even Veronica was pleased not to have to spend the day with his grumpy demeanour.

As Veronica could have anticipated, Finn and Sam walked together, leaving Veronica and Challenger to follow as quickly as they could over rough terrain.

Though he kept looking to the side for useful plants and things for his own experiments, Challenger surprised Veronica with a question of a very different nature. "What do you think of this man?"

"Finn seems to like him." Challenger gave her a look. "I must admit it's unusual for them to be intimate so soon, but I can understand it."

Challenger's eyes darted to Sam and back to Veronica. "And you don't," he hesitated, searching for the right words, "see anything wrong with him?"

Veronica likewise looked at the handsome newcomer, but it was with confusion and none of the wariness that Challenger's expression held. "No. He's been perfectly cordial. I was even thinking of extending the invitation. There's no reason he can't spend more time here if he and Finn are getting along so well."

"I don't know, Veronica. I think the sooner he leaves, the better."

"What don't you like about him?"

"I don't know. There's just something I can't put my finger on, but whatever it is, he doesn't seem quite right."

Veronica laughed. "You're just being paranoid."

Challenger sighed. "Maybe." His eyes rose to Finn and Sam's figures. They were a good twenty feet ahead now. Sam's hand strayed to Finn's waist for a moment. "Maybe not."

"Come on," said Veronica, picking up her pace, "before they leave us behind."

Challenger moved to pull his hat down a bit tighter when a bit of movement drew his attention. He paused, but whatever it was had already gone. He shrugged and hurried to catch up to the others.

Roxton, meanwhile, had just spotted a pecari, a pig-like animal he knew Challenger was fond of when roasted.

His rifle raised and sight set, he was just about to fire when there was a burst of movement from his left and then the pecari was dead, a blonde woman in leather armour standing over it. She pulled the bloody knife from the animal's body as Roxton stepped from his cover.

"Hippolyta?"

"Lord Roxton!" The young Amazon grinned, her beautiful visage just as Roxton remembered it. For the first time in what felt like years, Roxton broke into a genuine smile.

"What are you doing out here?"

Hippolyta eyed his rifle and smirked. "Much what you are I expect, just better."

"Still so modest."

"Just as much as you are." Her eyes explored the area around him. "Are you out alone?"

"Just as much as you are." They both chuckled. Following a sudden impulse, Roxton decided to do what a small part of him knew he would regret. "Do you have to return to your people right away or would you like a detour?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Roxton took a quick glance around, thinking of what was close. "Well," he stepped closer, his voice lowering to a sultry droll, "it's a lovely day. How do you feel about a little swim?"

Hippolyta smiled like a cat that had gotten into the cream. "I'd love to."

XXXXXXX

Blum and Marguerite entered a vast room full of shelves, barrels and chests, each stocked to the brim with artefacts and glittering baubles. They closed the door behind them, not so much worried about being caught as being interrupted before they could get everything they wanted.

"See," Marguerite drawled, her smile self-assured. "Easy. Xan should really think about better security."

Blum laughed, delighted with their success. "I've never seen anyone work a lock like that... besides Condillac."

"Condillac, hmm?" Marguerite looked around the vast room. "At least he's good for something then."

"You'll have to forgive him, Marguerite. He's not used to feeling second to a... a..."

"A woman?" She snorted. "I could have guessed that, but I think it's more personal than that."

"You do seem to rub him the wrong way. I wonder what it is."

"That's an easy puzzle," said Marguerite as she peeked into a few decorative boxes. She'd had the greedy little man figured out the day she met him. "Did he ever tell you that he tried to kill me to prevent Locke from turning me immortal?"

Blum looked at her in astonishment. "When?"

"When we first met. He thought I was too much trouble." She looked at him, a twinkle in her eye. "He was right."

Blum laughed again. "Well, at least you know how to get in a good haul," he said, lifting up two fistfuls of pearl necklaces.

"Yes," she chuckled.

"So, what happened?"

"Locke didn't want to trade me for you and Condillac thought that if you could be so easily given up when you'd been so loyal and useful, then what chances did he have?"

Blum thought about it. "There have been others before us. Maybe he has cause to worry."

"Perhaps."

They each looked around a bit, gathering items into cloth bags they'd brought. Blum didn't recognize the artefacts or think them worth anything. Marguerite, however, took some time to look in every box and over every trinket and totem.

Marguerite gasped a bit as she opened a small, wooden box. Inside, nestled in black velvet were two objects she recognized, but how Xan had finally managed to add it to his private collection was beyond her ability to imagine. Quickly, before Blum saw, she wrapped the objects in velvet and placed a necklace from the shelf inside.

"Find anything good?" asked Blum.

Marguerite nodded. "A few things." She paused a moment at a stack of ancient scrolls, thinking. "I wonder if he ever got around to burning my birth certificate," she said to herself.

XXXXXXX

The water was cool, but not so much that it ruined the fun of the swim. The sun warmed the shallows and made the tiny fish that darted around their legs sparkle like jewels. The outer clothing from the now drying couple hung on a low bush, out of the dirt.

Roxton watched the silvery fish a moment, thinking how Marguerite had liked to watch them. He quickly looked away.

"So," Hippolyta interrupted his internal musings, "just where are the rest of your friends today?"

She lay back on the sun-warmed rocks and closed her eyes.

Roxton took a moment to just admire her before he answered. Her blond hair was spread out and gleaming and her light underclothes soaked through. Were it not for some thin silks she wore under her armour, she would have bathed nude. He doubted she would have minded being fully unclothed.

He knew that with no trouble at all, he could have the proud female warrior bared for his eyes and his hands to explore. She would let him.

Marguerite, even after they confessed their love, had not allowed him half so much.

The thought made him sober and his appreciative look became marred by an irrepressible anguish. Before he could fully push that line of thought from his head, he could not help but wonder yet again why things turned out as they had.

"They're out looking for supplies for a man Finn brought back the other day."

"A man?" Hippolyta looked at the hunter, but he had already turned back to the water. Though he hadn't moved and was only a foot away from her, she couldn't help feeling a sudden distance. He might as well have been on the other side of the river.

"Um-hmm."

"He was travelling alone?"

"Yes."

"Where is he from?"

"A few weeks north from here."

"That's all he could tell you, just north?"

"He didn't know the exact location to point to it on a map."

"Who is he?"

Roxton laughed, finally looking at Hippolyta again. "Why?" He flopped down on his stomach and leaned close to brush some of her wet hair from her cheek. "What does it matter who he is or where he comes from?"

"A stranger travelling alone through such dangerous territory is either in need of protection or others need protecting from him."

"He's fine. In any case, the others are all together. They can handle... him." Roxton grew quiet as he realized just how intimately posed they were.

Almost close enough to lounge on top of her strong, well-toned body made him crave the intimacy of a touch or a kiss. His heart and his body remembered what it was to do such things with Marguerite and they longed desperately for that feeling again. Like an opium addict needs his next dose, Roxton needed to feel what she had made him feel.

Leaning the last few inches, Roxton closed the distance until his lips met Hippolyta's. At once, one hand came up to hold his head in place and he felt her other moving up and down his body. He moaned and shifted so he was pressed closer to her. Breaking the kiss so they could catch their breath, Roxton looked down and his heart leapt into his throat.

In place of Hippolyta's features, Roxton saw Marguerite's. Her bright eyes met his and they were full of love. Her lips half smiled.

He blinked and the vision was gone.

Hippolyta reached up for him, kissing along his jaw as Roxton sat, frozen by confusion and renewed pain. He pulled away, suddenly cold and not in the mood for what he'd started. It doesn't feel like it should, he thought.

"What's wrong?" Hippolyta asked, surprised at his abrupt shift in mood.

"I'm sorry, Hippolyta, but I..." He didn't know how to finish. How could he explain that he couldn't help thinking of Marguerite and when he did, it was all he could do to sit still and not cry out for answers?

She looked at him for a long moment. He sat stiffly, his back partly to her and then she understood, or thought she did. With an angry huff, Hippolyta stood and got dressed.

"It's that woman you were with the last time, isn't it?" The insult of rejection stung and her voice grew bitter. "What was that weakling's name? Oh, yes, now I remember. It's because of Mary."

"Marguerite. Yes," he answered quietly, "but not in the way that you think."

Hippolyta held her leather breastplate in one hand as her irritation grew, coming close enough to hit. "Well," she smacked him in the arm with her top, "if you are so loyal to her, then why are you here with me?"

Roxton flinched away as she hit him again when he didn't answer. "She left, all right! I don't know where she is."

She stopped in mid swing, surprised. "What?"

"Marguerite left," he sighed, "because she thought I was involved with someone else, and she's not coming back." Her desertion was too much. Roxton bowed his head and tried to regain control.

Hippolyta watched the proud man as he ran his hands through his hair. He didn't look like himself at all, something she was only now beginning to see. His eyes were dull and his stubble thicker than she remembered, but his face was the worst. She couldn't remember seeing a man look so lost, so hurt, and so angry all at the same time, but she had seen one of her sisters in a similar state and understood it enough to name it for him.

"You still love her."

He glanced at her, his expression sharp. "I don't." It was a childish response and he became all the more pitiable for it.

"Yes, you do." Before he could interrupt, she sat next to him. "You love her no matter what she did or you wouldn't be hurting so much right now."

"What do you know about it?" It came out much harsher than he'd wanted. With an effort he softened his voice. "What makes you think it's not just hatred?"

"Because I've seen your kind of heartache before. Amazons are strong warriors, but we are women too. Despite our best armour, we usually have the more tender heart. Why do you think we don't raise our own male children? It's torture for the mothers to give them up, but we know that if allowed to stay, our attachment to them would be the downfall of our way of life. The girls would fall in love as the boys grew up and the natural male dominance would assert itself as we stood powerless for fear of harming what we love." She sighed.

"You're angry, of course," she continued, "but mostly you're hurt that she didn't love you enough to stay and that makes you even angrier. Everything you see reminds you of her and her absence is like a pressure on your chest that never dissipates," her own brow pinched as she remembered her own grievances, "not even when you sleep... especially not when you sleep. Your friends can't help you because they don't understand and even they remind you of what you're missing until every moment of your life is one long torturous moment." She sighed. "Yes, I know your pain well."

He ran a hand roughly over his eyes, her words too accurate to not strike a nerve. It was silent for a minute or two and then he told her what he hadn't told anyone else.

"I don't know that she ever loved me. That's the worst thing of all. I thought she did, but... I just don't know." He looked to her, his dark eyes burning. If anyone could provide him insights to the mind of a strong woman, it was Hippolyta. "How could someone be in love and then just leave?"

Hippolyta smiled sadly. "I don't know your Marguerite well enough to answer that. I'm sure she had her reasons, though she may regret them. I would."

Roxton tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace.

Her hand touched his shoulder. "Don't give up your life just because of a bit of doubt. If she ever did love you, then it's not what she would want and if she didn't love you, then you should live better just to spite her. What is spurned love if not vengeful?"

XXXXXXX

The walk back to the tree house seemed both too short and very long. It was nearing dark by the time Roxton almost ran into the gate, his mind running in so many circles that he had lost track of where he was. He shook his head, trying to rattle his brain into paying attention, but it didn't really work. In the same distracted state he started up the elevator.

It was an effort, but he managed to snap himself to attention when the lift jolted to a stop. He got out and nodded politely to the table full of people as he hung up his guns and hat. He placed the small fowl he'd managed to bring down on his way home in the kitchen where he could deal with it later.

At the table dinner had already been served and everyone was cheerfully conversing in between mouthfuls.

Only Challenger appeared a little reserved. Roxton didn't need to wonder why. The older man's gaze was stoic, the watchful gaze of a shepherd over his flock or a father over his children, and fixed on the younger people. His eyes lingered particularly on Finn and Sam.

Roxton sat and listened half-heartedly as he resolutely chewed a bit of raptor meat, his mind really on Hipployta. They had parted amicably, but with no desire to see each other again. The feisty blonde had even offered to keep an eye out for Marguerite. It made Roxton smile at her unexpected kindness, but he knew it was a useless offer. Marguerite would not be returning to the Plateau.

It wasn't until Veronica spoke up that Roxton paid closer attention.

"Sam, I know you want to find your father, but if you would like to spend more time here, you're more than welcome to. Our home is always open to you."

"Thank you, Veronica. I think I'll take you up on your offer..." his eyes met Roxton's and Challenger's, "another day."

Finn looked extremely disappointed. She leaned in close to Sam. "Are you sure? You don't have to go right away."

Sam's eyes didn't move from hers, but he felt the pressure of Challenger's stern gaze. "I can't. I need to keep up the search." He lowered his voice so only she could hear his whisper in her ear. "But I promise I'll come back. I care too much for you to stay away forever."

"When will you leave then?" asked Challenger lightly. He felt his spirits lift just thinking of the stranger gone.

Sam thought a moment, taking in the wary looks sent his way by Roxton and Challenger. It was clear they wanted him gone. The women, however, liked him. Still, he didn't want to take any chances.

"Tomorrow."

"So soon?" Finn had hoped for at least another day, but Sam's eyes flickered to the men again. Roxton was staring at him with interest. Up to that point the hunter had been particularly inattentive, distracted even, but there was wariness in his gaze now.

"I'm afraid so."

XXXXXXX

Roxton sat back in his seat, nursing a glass of Zanga spirits. It was not whiskey or brandy, but it did the trick. It had been a busy day and yet the thing that felt the most worn out was his mind.

Sam was gone, having left early and though the men were glad for it, both women were disappointed. No matter what Roxton or Challenger said, the women insisted Sam was a good man and worthy of their heartfelt invitations to return.

Finn, still angry at Roxton, pointed out that they had no basis to dislike Sam and the men had to admit there was nothing beyond a gut feeling. He had appeared to be everything that was sincere and good, but something niggled in the back of their minds that he wasn't quite right.

But the stranger was gone and Challenger and Roxton relaxed.

Over and over Roxton pondered Marguerite's parting and his options as he tried to continue on with his life. Could he wait for her? Should he? Was it too much to hope that she would ever come back? He wasn't sure of the answer. The only thing he could foresee was a need to apologize to the friends he still had.

Across the room were Challenger and Finn, practising her reading. Challenger was all ease with this activity, but then his outlook on people and things rarely changed. No matter anyone else's bad mood, Challenger was steady and loyal and religiously ignored bad behaviour. It was a trait Roxton suddenly appreciated given his own recent melancholy.

Finn's back was turned resolutely away from him, much as it had been for days. The relationship with her and Veronica would not be so easy to patch up.

Veronica was at the kitchen table, reading one of her parent's books.

Roxton decided it would be easiest to speak with her first, but he was at a loss as to how to start. He downed his drink in a quick swig and stood to do his penance. As he expected, she only raised her eyes for a second as he settled into a chair next to her.

"Veronica..." he didn't know how to start, how to ease into it. Be a man, he thought. "I'm sorry, Veronica." He was pleased to note she was at least looking at him. "I was angry and I took it out on you and Finn because you happened to be there, and I'm sorry I did that. It was very wrong of me."

With a smile, Veronica nodded and turned back to her book. "I forgive you..." her eyes flicked up to meet his, "as long as it doesn't happen again."

Roxton gave a half smile and looked at his hands, unsure what to say.

"I miss her too, you know." Veronica had put her book to the side and folded her hands across her stomach. "And in case you've forgotten, I already know what it's like to miss someone you love."

"I know." There was silence for a long moment as they thought about all the people they had lost. Veronica's parents had been the first, then Summerlee, then Ned and now Marguerite. The names and the pains kept stacking up. Roxton didn't know how much more he could take. To lose someone to a natural death was hard enough, but these... How were they to be endured?

XXXXXXX

Locke entered Marguerite's room without knocking, a habit she was beginning to find very irksome. Luckily, she had long gotten into the habit of keeping track of the people around her. With her new connection to the world around her, that was as simple as breathing.

So smoothly that he noticed nothing, she hid her newest treasure in a drawer.

"I hear you and Blum had a bit of fun," said Locke with a smile. "I don't think I've seen Blum so excited since our visit to an Indian spice market."

Marguerite laughed and gestured to her bed where there were more jewels and items of interest than there were blankets. "It was a good day."

"So, where did you go for it?"

"A few private collections and a museum."

His eyes glinted as they scanned the room as though knowing she hid something from him. "Anything of special interest?"

Pasting her brightest, most innocently jubilant expression on her face, and nodded. "Well, I did find one thing." She pulled out a glittering necklace made of gold and diamonds with a large sapphire pendant. Holding it up proudly, she didn't have to fake her admiration for the bauble. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Locke looked it over and then glanced at her, a twinkle in his eye, reassured by her slight lie. "It is, but it would look even better on you." He placed it around her neck, kissing her pale skin as he did. "I love you."

Marguerite knew it was a lie.

XXXXXXX

Sam watched the lights turn out in the tree house. He stood beyond the electric fence, eyes glued to the light that illuminated his beloved's room. The first to be snuffed out was the brightest, the one in the main room. The next were the bedrooms.

"Sam." His sister's whisper didn't startle him though he'd not expected her.

"Go away, Marina."

"It's time to go, Sam."

"No, not yet."

Marina took his large hand in her own, the colour of their skin and shape of their faces so similar that they could have been twins. She pulled lightly. "We need to leave now."

As his sister's hand tightened around his, trying to pull him away from his vigil, he stiffened. Finn was his and no one, not even Marina would take him away. "No!"

"Sam -"

"No! She's mine!" He pulled away from Marina and turned his back on her. "We are meant to be together."

Marina's tone sharpened in her growing fear and desperation. "She's not your plaything and you don't even know her. We need to go!"

"Go then, if you're so afraid of love."

"It's not love, brother," she hissed. "What I feel for you as my sibling is love. I've stuck by you and watched you make mistake after mistake and now I'm going to keep you safe and stop you from making the same blunder yet again. This isn't love. You don't know her. It's obsession. Don't you remember what happened the last time? We can't stay here and you can't have her."

The instant the words left her mouth, she was stunned by a harsh blow to the side of her face. Sam struck her once more as she fell, causing her head to snap back and hit a rock. Unconscious before she made contact with the ground, Marina felt nothing, not even the sharp rocks and sticks he dragged her over.

"I'm not sorry, Marina," he said.

He left her less than a kilometre away from the tree house, uncaring that he was leaving his defenceless sister in the middle of a dark jungle where predators were always hunting. It didn't matter to him. The only thing that mattered was his perfect woman, sleeping peacefully in the tree house. She belonged to him in a way no one else ever had and she would be his.

XXXXXXX

It had long grown dark in Shanghai, the streets lit with lanterns and electricity in the districts able to afford it. The travellers, Locke, Condillac, and Blum had already retired, but Marguerite was still awake.

Her room was dark but for a single lamp. She didn't want to draw attention to her room should one of the others wake and see the light. In her hand was a piece of paper she'd sought all her life. She thought how strange it was that such a simple thing had caused her so much grief and now it seemed so unimportant. Still, it was her treasure.

With a sigh, Marguerite carefully slipped her birth certificate into the same black, velvet bag that held the diamonds Xan had once tried to buy from her. Both items were more precious than they appeared on the surface and needed to be kept secret and safe.

XXXXXXX

Finn rose early the next morning, before the sun lit the sky, and went outside to gather some wood for the stove. Roxton had a large pile already chopped and waiting at the base of the tree. Finn inhaled deeply, enjoying the solitude of the beautiful morning.

It was quiet and relatively cool outside, the morning dew cooling the air as it dripped off leaves and spider's webs. A few birds chirped and sang. A snake uncoiled from its hiding spot under the woodpile and slithered away from Finn's boot, its tongue flicking in and out as it fled. Finn watched it go with a crooked smile.

Picking up a bunch of the smaller sticks, Finn was about to turn back when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She dropped her bundle and in a flash had a knife from the holder at her hip in her hand. Though her sharp eyes scoured the jungle, she could see nothing. Instinct, however, told her there was someone or something watching.

"Who's there?"

Silence. Finn didn't trust it.

"Show yourself."

Wary in the continued silence, Finn quickly picked up the wood again and hurried to the elevator.

Before she could reach the machine, she felt a sharp jab in the back of her neck. Her vision grew blurry and a numbness spread through her body. With trembling fingers she reached up and pulled out a tiny dart.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground.

Sam rushed around the fence, through the gate and to Finn's side. Tenderly, he turned her onto her back and swept a few strand of her hair back so he could see her face. He had not intended to take her this way, but she'd been afraid when she sensed his presence and he couldn't allow her to flee. This was their chance. He'd known it as soon as he saw her descend from the tree house.

Lifting her easily, Sam took his prize away from the imprisonment foisted on her by her so-called friends. She would wake soon enough and be so happy to see him she would never ask about her tree house companions or ask to return to them. Sam was sure of it.

XXXXXXX

Her head ached. That was what woke her, or maybe it was the nausea or the dry throat. Finn opened her bleary eyes, finding herself extremely confused to see a cave wall. She turned over and froze.

"You're so beautiful." Sam sat on the cave floor, Finn's head in his lap.

"Sam?"

He smiled down at her, stroking her hair like she was his pet. The gesture unnerved her to no end.

"What happened?"

He looked down into her wide eyes and tried to explain, knowing she would understand. "I didn't want to do it this way, but I couldn't let you leave. It was a mild sedative, just enough to keep you asleep."

"Sam," she worked to stop her voice from trembling, "where are we?"

"A cave I found. We won't stay here for long though. I just had to find a place we could stay until you woke up."

Uncertain about the situation and what he would do, Finn's eyes darted everywhere, looking for something of help, but there was nothing. Panic tried to settle in. She forced it away, ignoring the pounding of blood in her ears.

Less than a day ago she'd been happy in Sam's presence, hopeful even that he would stay close, but finding herself so suddenly with him under such circumstances disturbed her in a way she didn't understand. She was used to danger, even to not being able to trust anyone but herself, but this sort of deviousness was something she hadn't encountered before. She was used to knowing her enemy, even if it was only through intuition, before they struck out.

How had this man snuck through her defences? He had been perfectly sweet, kind, and more understanding than anyone she'd ever met. If that had been a mask, what did she really know of him?

What was he capable of?

She had to get away now before she found out.

Pushing herself up and away from Sam, she tried to run, but fell, something tight wrapped around her feet. She looked back and felt chills at the cold glare Sam fixed on her. For a moment she was perplexed as to why she'd fallen if he hadn't moved from his seat, but looking down she noted that he'd tied her feet.

"You can't leave me," said Sam. His voice was full of a quiet threat.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Taking her chances, Finn reached for the knot around her ankles. Sam moved as well and used his greater weight to push her back.

Her head hit the stone floor with a smack, making her see stars as Sam held her down. She felt his lips on her neck and fought nausea.

Struggling in earnest now, Finn tried to throw him off, which only encouraged him to hold tighter. He lifted himself up enough to pull her back off the ground then slammed her back down. It forced the air from her lungs and stunned her into a coughing fit.

Panic closed in as Finn realized he was too strong for her.

Her scream travelled well, echoing around the cave and out into the forest. Unfortunately, there was no one to hear it.

XXXXXXX

"I'll be back before dinner," said Roxton as he donned his hat and swung his bag across his back.

Challenger nodded, already thinking of his lab.

"Has anyone seen Finn?" Veronica asked from the stairs. She had just checked the bedrooms and was puzzled by Finn's absence.

The men replied in the negative.

"She's probably at the garden," said Challenger with a smile.

"You're probably right," said Veronica. "Still, I'll check on her."

Roxton interrupted quickly, thinking this could be an opportunity to apologize to Finn. He hated that there was strain between them. The young woman was too carefree and sweet to hold a grudge and he felt his misdeeds keenly that he'd allowed her anger to fester so long.

"If you don't mind, I'll stop by the garden on my way out."

Veronica smiled, knowing his thoughts. "Good luck."

Roxton left with a chuckle and uncertain sigh. He had no idea what he was going to say.

The day was pleasant and mild for the Plateau. A few clouds passed the sun, blocking it enough to provide relief from its heat. Birds were out along with a good variety of animals, each taking advantage of the pleasant weather.

He took his time strolling to the garden, using the time to think. He didn't realize how close he'd gotten to his destination until he'd already arrived. His boot hit the fencepost.

Looking up, Roxton was surprised not to see Finn. Taking a closer look around, he couldn't find any sign she'd been there for at least two days. Though he had no reason to believe the garden ever had been her destination, his gut twisted in apprehension. He didn't like that no one knew where she was. He didn't like that the day after Samuel Roberts left, Finn was gone as well. It was too much of a coincidence given how interested in each other they had been.

Backtracking to the tree house, Roxton kept his eyes open for Finn's trail, but saw nothing. He did, however, stumble across someone he didn't expect.

Marina moaned as she woke to the sun in her eyes. Her head felt like it had exploded and was still doing so. She rolled onto her side, trying to shield her eyes and moaned again.

"Are you all right?"

Marina looked up into the concerned face of an older man and tensed, recognizing him as one of the people she'd seen going in and out of the house in the giant tree. Did he know who she was? She immediately dismissed the thought. He'd never seen her before and even if he had, he would not have seen her with her brother.

"What happened?" the man asked.

Marina hesitated. For all she knew, this man would kill her as soon as she explained about her brother. She could easily keep silent and safe, but she was not like her brother. If she could, she would stop him from taking another life.

"My brother - the man your friend met in the forest - didn't want to listen to me." She watched the man's eyes fill with surprise and dread. "He wants your friend for himself. I... Sam is dangerous. If she - she is in great danger if she doesn't give him exactly what he wants."

Roxton grabbed Marina's hand and pulled her up, practically dragging her back with him to the tree house. As they went, he scoured the ground for signs of a person passing and quickly found it. There were the tracks from Sam dragging his sister into the jungle and then returning. At the gate, he let go of her wrist and sought out the place of Finn's ambush. Now that he knew what to look for, it too was easy to see.

"Will you wait here?" Roxton asked. Marina nodded and Roxton quickly went up to gather his friends.

Marina waited with agitated anticipation for Roxton to return, wondering if she ought to run. The machine he'd ascended in came back down, halting her debate. It was too late to turn back now.

Challenger and Veronica watched the strange woman as they drew closer, noting her nervous fidgeting. Roxton hadn't explained fully when he burst into the tree house, just said that Finn was in trouble and they needed to leave right away. Roxton didn't hesitate long enough for introductions or explanations. As soon as he passed Marina, he was back on the trail Sam left, his footprints deeper from carrying Finn.

The trio followed Roxton, allowing him to do the tracking while Marina explained the situation.

"You really think he'll kill her?" asked Challenger, appalled. Marina nodded.

"I know he will. He's unstable and unable to handle rejection when he's focussed on one woman."

"So, he's done this before," said Veronica. She quickened her step.

"It's why he is banished from our tribe."

"And you?" asked Challenger kindly, wondering what she had been expelled for.

"I am free to return, but I couldn't just leave him. He's my brother." Marina sighed with deep regret. "I thought I could keep him out of trouble, but he was too strong."

"Here," Roxton shouted ahead of them, causing the group to cease their discussion and run to the mouth of a small cave. It wasn't much and Veronica recognized it as one they'd used numerous times to escape the rain.

"They were here," said Marina, looking at some fresh smears of dirt and leaves. She noted with relief that there was neither blood nor a corpse inside. They could still have time.

Roxton picked up a discarded bit of rope and tossed it aside in anger. "I should have checked on her sooner."

"You couldn't have known," said Veronica.

Marina looked at Roxton with pity, but couldn't think of anything to say in comfort. She shared his feelings of guilt and knew there was no way to assuage it. "He won't stay in one place long. We'd better keep moving."

Veronica and Roxton took up the lead together, Challenger and Marina close on their heels.

"How long will he keep Finn alive?" Challenger asked. He'd heard once from a peer that killers like Sam Roberts didn't stay fixated on their prizes for long and often killed them within the first few hours. Of course, it wasn't his area of expertise and he rather hoped his information was incorrect.

"I can't say for sure. If your friend is clever and pretends to love him in return, she could survive another few days."

Roxton shook his head. "That's Marguerite's style." Challenger and Veronica looked at each other briefly. "She'd have no trouble dealing with him. Finn is clever, but she'll try to fight her way out."

"Then every minute counts."

XXXXXXX

Finn made as conspicuous a trail as she could while being towed like a lamb to slaughter. Her hands were tied and though there was now a length of rope between her ankles to allow her to walk, she would not be able to run. She hoped raptors weren't in the area. Then, looking at her captor she wished very much that they were.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, pulling on the ropes. It earned her a sharp tug.

"Somewhere quiet and safe where we can be together."

"I told you I won't -"

"And I say you will."

"I don't belong to you and I won't do what you say."

Sam didn't answer.

XXXXXXX

The path was easy to see and the group was pleased to note that Finn was walking on her own. There were places where the ground was scuffed and marred, indicating she'd attempted to flee but been caught or pulled back. Roxton theorized she was tied.

They continued for almost three hours at an arduous pace and Roxton began to fear they would run out of time. Veronica shared his concern, but though they knew how the other felt, they didn't speak it aloud. To say it was to make their fear real.

And there they were.

The jungle parted in front of Roxton's vision and he saw Sam struggling with Finn, his fingers wrapped around her slim neck. She fought hard, but she wasn't equal to his strength.

Rushing forward, Roxton and Veronica pried Sam from their friend.

Enraged, Sam leapt at Finn, his hands grasping for her. Roxton's right hook hit him squarely on the jaw, but it barely slowed him. Driven by his rage and desire to possess, he was past reason. He was lost to the delirium of a deranged mind.

Sam rushed at Roxton, a knife now in his hand and as quick as Roxton was, he would have been killed if another knife didn't pass him, hitting Sam in the chest. He looked back with surprise.

Marina's hand was still outstretched from her throw, her eyes wide with horror. A sob left her as the realization of what she'd done sunk in and she put her hands to her mouth. She was senseless of the hands that patted her back and words of comfort. Her brother was dead and by her own hand.

XXXXXXX

"What will you do now?" asked Veronica. They sat around a campfire, the day too far gone for any of them to head home. Already the sun was low in the sky.

As soon as the threat Roxton had quickly cut Finn's bonds and the group took a break to get the whole story from both Finn and Marina. Out of respect for Marina, Roxton and Challenger had even buried Sam and marked his grave with a stone.

Marina shrugged. "Go home. I can return now that I am no longer bound to my brother."

Finn grimaced. "I'm sorry you had to..."

"Don't trouble yourself," said Marina, shaking her head. "I think it is better this way. If it hadn't been you, it would have been some other unfortunate woman." She looked around at the sympathetic gazes around her. "At least you have such friends to come after you."

Finn smiled. "I am lucky."

XXXXXXX

Marina left them early the next morning, able to return home now that she was free from the burden of her own loyalty. Though her mind was turned to her loss, there was a lightness to her step that had been missing since her brother first showed signs of his deteriorating mentality. She'd covered for his misdeeds for years, not blind but dementedly hopeful he would return to himself. Pitied for her circumstances and admired for her fortitude, Veronica extended an invitation should Marina ever be in the area again. The invitation was not likely to be taken up on, but the gesture was appreciated.

The journey home took a lot longer than their frantic rush to find Finn, the group still tired from the urgent pace. They took their time and kept a sharp eye out for predators.

They were less than three hours from the tree house when there came the noise of horses and heavy carts. Roughly singing men and chattering women could be heard as well. They made quite a bit of noise, making the adventurers wonder how the caravan had managed to not be attacked by every predator in the forest.

Curiosity made the explorers stop and hide, waiting to see who the oncoming group was. It was quite possibly someone they could trade with.

The caravan came into sight, a mass of colour and people.

"Gypsies," said Roxton. The others nodded.

"Should we see what they have we might be able to trade for?" asked Veronica. There wasn't anything she needed, but Challenger wanted some laboratory supplies replaced and Roxton was always looking for extra parts for their guns. Though the gypsies looked rough, there wasn't anything particularly worrisome about them.

The explorers stepped out into the path, just the sight of them halting the procession. Immediately they were approached by a man draped in numerous beads and scarves. His sharp eyes surveyed them and their weapons with interest and suspicion.

"Good afternoon," said Challenger, bobbing his head to the man. "We were wondering if you would be interested in a bit of trade."

The leader of the gypsies smiled, crinkling his eyes and exposing some missing teeth replaced with gold ones. "Of course, mes amis," he said with an accent none of the explorers could place. His eyes raked thoroughly over Veronica and Finn. "We are always looking for trade."

Wary now, Roxton thanked the man and nodded his head for Challenger to lead the way down the line of wagons. In a whisper he warned everyone to stay together. They agreed, none liking the assessing looks they were getting.

Finn, who was the last in line, felt eyes on her back and saw the leader was following. He watched them all with a crooked grin that turned sly as his eyes wandered to Veronica and herself. Looking up at her friend, Finn saw Veronica's head turn slightly. She was watching the man in her peripheral vision as well.

The gold-toothed leader came close, leaning on the side of the first wagon they stopped to peruse.

"Me llamo Esteban. What is your name, kislány?" His eyes roved boldly and he grinned at Finn, who glared back at him until Roxton called her attention. He'd spotted some bolts for her crossbow.

The driver was a young girl, dark, pretty and looked too innocent to be with such a crowd. There were marks on her ankles, the kind left by heavy manacles. "What you like?" she asked, her accent thick.

Roxton pointed to the pile of weapons in a corner. "If you have parts and ammunition for our weapons, we might be interested."

The girl stared at him with concentration as he spoke and after a moment where he could see her shift the words around in her head, she smiled and nodded. "What weapons?"

"Crossbow first." He turned and Finn handed hers over so he could compare what the girl had with what was already loaded.

Nervous to be without her crossbow, Finn shifted from one foot to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest as though to shield herself from Esteban's gaze. He only seemed further amused and once or twice she thought he was about to reach out to touch her. Though his attention was diverted between both her and Veronica, she was the closest and after Sam's treachery she was more wary than usual.

"What brings you to this area of the jungle?" Esteban asked, directing his question to Finn though Roxton answered.

"We were hunting a man who stole something from us."

Esteban's eyes widened just a bit. "And did you find this teufel?"

Roxton looked at him, a hint of warning in his stiff posture. "Yes. He's dead."

"I see."

Esteban gave a slight wave and immediately they were surrounded by armed men. The girl in the wagon still held Finn's crossbow. She backed up, eyes wide, and placed it with the other weapons at her feet. Veronica mused that at least now they knew how the gypsies had come across their goods.

It took no time at all for the explorers to be tied and set against one of the wagon wheels. The ropes were tested by everyone, rubbing their skin raw, and found to be both strong and tied well.

"What I wouldn't give to have Marguerite here right now," Finn mumbled. The others looked at her in surprise, their expressions identical. "What? She could handle these guys no problem. Didn't she once seduce a giant?"

Veronica gave a dark laugh while Roxton grimaced and looked away. "When you're right, you're right," said Veronica.

"So, anyone have any clever ideas?" Finn asked, twisting her arms in vain.

"Maybe," Challenger grunted. His longer fingers found a sharp rock and began working against the ropes at his wrists. Roxton craned his neck and saw what he was about.

"Good work, George."

It took almost an hour and several clever moves to pass the stone from one person to the other, but eventually everyone was free. All they had to do was await an opportunity to retrieve their weapons and escape.

The guards began to grow tired as the afternoon wore on. There would be a change soon enough and the captives readied themselves.

Finn turned her body as much as she dared and saw a trio of new guards coming. "It's now or never."

As one, the group lunged at the first set of guards, throwing them to the ground. Roxton and Challenger quickly grabbed up the guns while Finn and Veronica relieved them of their knives.

Somewhat armed now, they snuck into the wagon where the gypsies took their own guns and Finn's crossbow. They were almost into the jungle when Esteban and a group of men ran at them.

There was a furious fight in which everyone took and gave some good hits. Outnumbered, the explorers had to fight twice as hard.

Chaos ruled until the explorer's skill won out over numbers and the crowd began to thin.

Challenger lost his rifle and had to fight Esteban by hand. The two of them skirmished, throwing punches and trying to pull each other off balance.

Finn kicked one opponent and flipped over backwards to avoid another. The move put her between Challenger and the others.

Esteban gained the upper hand over Challenger. Though he was shorter, he was younger and stronger. A strong backhand and roundhouse kick levelled the elder scientist.

Looking up, Esteban saw the woman - Finn, he recalled after a second - in his sights and smiled, drawing his pistol.

Veronica saw the danger at the same time Roxton did and swiftly threw her knife, the blade leaving her hand the same time Esteban pulled the trigger. The moment seemed to last forever.

Finn turned towards Roxton's voice, not realizing what he was trying to warn her about. There was no time for her to dodge and though Roxton leapt for her moments after, he was too far away to shove her from the bullet's path. She gave a jolt and looked down at her torso in surprise.

Veronica screamed as Finn fell to the ground and rushed to her side. Esteban lay behind them, dead while Finn gulped at air that didn't seem to fill her lungs as it used to.

The gypsies stopped fighting and backed off, rushing to their wagons and driving away once their leader was dead. The explorers let them go without a thought, their attention focussed solely on the young woman dying in front of them.

Roxton and Challenger knelt to examine the wound, but they all knew there was no hope even before Challenger shook his head. There was nothing he could do about the gaping, messy wound that ripped through her organs.

"Finn..." Veronica sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

More blood than it seemed the human body could hold flowed swiftly from Finn, who grasped at Veronica's hand, holding on as the pain began to dull and her thoughts, which were already disjointed from shock, dimmed. It seemed like hours though really it was seconds when eventually she grew still and the volume of Veronica's crying increased. Roxton and Challenger removed their hats, tears falling unashamedly from their eyes as well.

Wordlessly, when Veronica could cry no more and some little reason reasserted itself in her grieving mind, the men built a litter and placed Finn on it. Together, missing more of their friends than they cared to count, the trio brought Finn home to the tree house.

They ate dinner in silence, none really hungry, and split up when they could stand no more. Roxton retreated to the balcony while Veronica busied herself with the dishes. Challenger escaped to his lab where his grief could be hidden.

The stars were clear and bright that night, with a sliver of the moon acting like a torch in the dark night. Roxton was so absorbed in his gazing at them and his thoughts that he didn't hear Veronica join him until her hand touched his shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

Roxton shook his head. "Two in less than a year." He gave a short, dark laugh. "That has to be a record even for us."

Veronica didn't dare voice it, but her pinched expression gave away some of her thoughts.

"You don't understand how I can compare them, do you?" he asked.

"Marguerite left, Roxton. She chose to go. We all miss her, but you're the only one who can't seem to get past it."

"Will you get past Malone?" He turned back to the stars at her slight gasp. "I didn't think so. She was everything to me, Veronica. I know you didn't see what I did, or you didn't want to, but I hoped..." He sighed. "It doesn't matter now."

There was silence between them a moment, broken by a few animal calls, before Roxton continued.

"I didn't ever get around to apologizing properly. I should have done it." Veronica put a hand on his shoulder, uncertain what to do as tears welled in both their eyes again. "I'm going to miss her."

"Me too."

Roxton hung his head, leaning on the railing. "If you don't mind," he said softly, "I'd like some time alone."

Veronica nodded and left, understanding his desire to handle his sorrow, but hesitated before she left. "For what it's worth... I didn't get to apologize to Marguerite for our last spat either." She drew a deep breath. "There were traits she had that I admired, but you're right to say I didn't want to see her better qualities. Somehow I always forgot them when she did or said something to provoke me."

"A tactic she's used many times to great effect," said Roxton with a smile.

Veronica nodded. "I think I see that now. With so many people leaving us, I think I even understand it. If you do decide you want to talk about it, I'll be here to listen." They smiled at each other, Roxton touched by her words and then she left.

When she was gone, Roxton whispered to the dark, "Goodbye, Finn. I'm glad to have known you."

Then, taking out a worn piece of paper, the one with Marguerite's romantic scribbles of 'Lady Marguerite Roxton' on it, he smiled. "You denied this too." He took a shaky breath. "But I knew better... I know better."

Some of the lights behind him went out as Challenger and Veronica prepared for bed. Their mumbled conversation drifted away slowly.

"You'll come back one day. I know you will," he said to the empty night. "When you do, I'll be here, waiting."

XXXXXXX

Marguerite sighed in contentment. In a loose, flowing dress she wandered the secluded beach on the Carribean side of Costa Rica alone. She was barefoot and had her hair loose, more free and uninhibited than she ever had been. Around her neck, instead of her once treasured locket, sat the diamond necklace she'd taken from Xan. To keep Locke from growing suspicious, she'd taken to wearing it as often as she could.

Her feet moved to the salty water and she threw back her head, enjoyed the feel of the sand and water, the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. She was alive and so was every molecule surrounding her. There were monkeys picking fruit from the trees behind her, there were tiny fish and crabs along the shore, there were birds and insects of every kind crowding the jungle and sky. A snake curled tighter in on itself as it hid in plain sight on a tree trunk, trusting its camouflage to keep it safe. There was promise of rain in the wind though it was still very sunny and warm. There was life and death all around as nature progressed in its natural cycle.

She could feel the whole forest and inlet, like a silent witness to a play, a living ghost. The thought made her pause. In a way she was a ghost, a shadow of her former self now removed from the normal flow of time and life. Now that she would never grow old or die lest an accident occur, she wasn't really part of it, not anymore.

Did being immortal mean she was no longer living even if she was alive?

It was a question that had begun to creep into her mind every now and then, only to be dispelled and forgotten once some new wonder took its place, and there were many of those in this new life. Locke made sure to distract her whenever he could.

As was becoming habit, she felt the man's presence before she heard or saw him. She asked the wind who it was and it whispered back.

"Condillac, I said I didn't want to be disturbed." Her tone was dark, cold and with angry authority in every word. He was intruding on her rare solitude and she would make sure he knew it.

Condillac smiled arrogantly that this woman thought she could order him around. Why, he had been with Locke for years and she had just joined them. She should be polishing his boots, not talking to him like a servant. Even their last spat and his brief feeling of pity wasn't enough to quell his bitterness or his belief in his superiority.

"Did I disturb you?" His tone grew insolent. "I'm so sorry, your highness. I assure you, watching you is hardly my choice."

Marguerite turned to face the man who had grown increasingly more irritating. Real anger turned her sight red faster than anything on the Plateau ever had and she felt the desire to lash out. Though she didn't notice them, storm clouds began to brew behind the cliffs that encircled the beach.

Condillac shivered, confused as the air became truly cold the closer he came to the woman. A sense of danger overcame him and he stopped at least ten paces away, preparing to back up further. It made no sense, but he felt fear of her. Her darkened eyes narrowed and her face no longer appeared warm and glowing as it had a minute ago. Instead, it was pallid and cold, like white marble carved into a demon's face that hid behind a beauty's facade.

"Locke -" Condillac started, trying to defend himself though he could think of no reason to besides her anger.

"I don't care what Locke wants. You will go back and tell him that I'm not his possession to keep watch over."

"I can't just..." for a moment Condillac was horribly conflicted as he tried to figure out which person he should fear most. He had seen Locke's power, but his instincts about this woman were screaming that she was dangerous... more so than he'd yet realized. His loyalty was to Locke, but his life was beloved to him.

"Then just go and I will tell him myself!" Marguerite said, the tone of authority undeniable.

Though Condillac felt himself more entitled due to his many years of service than this woman, he hastened to obey, running from the beach.

With a sigh, Marguerite attempted to let her anger go. It worked some, the storm clouds disappearing from the sky. The greater part of her anger calmed, she began to walk along the beach again, though a frown remained in place.

Part of her was grateful for what Locke had given her, but she refused to feel herself indebted to him to the degree he was pushing her to believe. His offer had not included any pressures beyond enduring his company.

Now, he harassed Marguerite with his presence and set his servants on her when he couldn't keep his own eyes on her. It irked her, this possessiveness.

Roxton had gotten away with his overprotectiveness simply because she knew his concern was her safety.

Locke's concern stemmed from the fear of losing his newest acquisition.

Picking up a handful of sand, she let it slowly fall. It didn't hit the ground but stopped, floating in formation in mid-air. As her gaze fixed on it, it slowly melted and twisted in on itself.

As the sand glowed red, it revolved to form a glass heart. She smiled, pleased with herself.

Roxton's face, Cheshire smile and all, flashed in the smooth surface of the glass heart. With a gasp, she took her eyes away and it fell into the wet sand. Marguerite left it there and continued on down the beach.


	7. Choices

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I admit that I have ideas brewing beyond this, but I haven't completed writing them down in a cohesive story. So, have patience and remember that encouragement helps me (and every writer) to create. Cheers!

XXX

Marguerite was furious and that was never a good thing for anyone.

Condillac ran from the hotel room as she flung a chair into the wall.

"Get out!" she screamed at his retreating form. 'Don't shoot the messenger' had no meaning to her in this moment.

Blum kept his seat, though he watched her eruption warily. So far he'd stayed in her good graces, but her moods changed with the winds. It reminded him of his mortal life with the king and queen of France. That was before heads began rolling and he'd fled with Francois Locke. This situation seemed more volatile.

For good measure, Marguerite smashed one of the paintings before pacing her room like a tigress in a cage. Still fuming, she kicked a bit of wreckage out of her way.

Carefully, still well aware that he could be the next thing smashed against a wall, Blum attempted to calm the woman down. "It was just a small lie. He just wanted to make sure you would be kept safe."

"I don't need to be kept safe," Marguerite fumed, "and I don't need to be kept in the dark about things of importance. How dare he go to Nuremburg behind my back!"

"He just didn't want us followed for the next lifetime. You have to admit it's been irritating having to look over our shoulders."

Marguerite glared at him. "It's my business. He has no right to meddle in my business."

Blum held up his hands. "I'm not disagreeing, but by joining us, you've made it our business as well. Your past... acquaintances are ours too. We can't have them chasing us all over the world."

"It doesn't matter. After a few more years, everyone from my past will be dead and it won't be an issue anymore."

"The world is changing, Marguerite. You know that. People have longer memories than they used to and information flows more freely. The day might come when we can't hide anymore."

It was true. Just over forty years had passed since Marguerite left the Plateau and the world was changing fast. People and styles were dying, being taken over with new ones. Technology advanced and political lines shifted so far that Marguerite didn't even recognize the places she once knew like the back of her own hand.

Forty years of immortality and Marguerite felt utterly disconnected from the world, from people, from life. They all moved on, but she stayed eternally the same.

"You're not the only one who had ties to break, you know," Blum continued, but Marguerite wasn't listening.

"What else has he lied about?" Marguerite turned to Blum, who twitched, but kept his expression neutral. There were secrets he held that both Marguerite and Locke would kill him for revealing.

"I doubt there's much he hasn't told you. There are few secrets between us. In any case, it's done. He's back and there's nothing to be changed about it now."

Marguerite stared at him, but Blum revealed nothing. Marguerite didn't trust it, but she knew better than to intimidate it out of him. He was a useful ally. Still, if he was determined to keep his secrets, Marguerite knew of subtle ways to learn the truth.

"You're right," she said with a resigned sigh. "I shouldn't be upset that Locke wants the best for us. Thank you, Blum."

Blum stood, pleased with his abilities to calm the wild woman. He stood, kissed Marguerite's cheek like a brother and left with a smile, feeling proud of himself. Thoughts of roast lamb and mint sauce revolved in his mind as he contemplated their future happiness.

Marguerite waited until the door was shut and his footsteps had faded before she took action, moving to her bed. "All right, Locke, what else are you hiding from me?"

From beneath the mattress, Marguerite retrieved the velvet bag that still held her birth certificate and the diamonds she'd stolen from Xan. She knew intuitively what she needed to do.

Taking one of the diamonds, she slid into Locke's room down the hall. The door opened easily for her. She heard the shower running and heard him splashing around. She was disgusted and irritated at once.

In no time at all, she'd placed one of the diamonds into his coat pocket and turned to leave.

She'd just reached the door when the shower stopped and Locke appeared, wrapped in a towel in the bathroom doorway. Quickly, before he could spot her movement, she turned and pretended to have just entered.

"Marguerite, good evening," Locke greeted her, happily surprised. He'd been slightly afraid she would be angry with him when he returned from his trip to Germany. Yet here she was with a lovely smile and dressed to make his mouth water. After so many years in the modern world, she still preferred high fashion and dresses were her favourite. She wore one of his favourite red evening dresses, cut round and low at her chest and fitting her close right to her hips where the skirt flared ever so slightly.

"Welcome back." It took every ounce of patience and skill she possessed to keep her smile from turning into a snarl.

"To what do I owe the very great pleasure of your company?" Locke eyed her coyly as he dropped his towel and dressed. He was gratified to see her cheeks flush slightly, imagining it was from desire.

Marguerite shrugged. "I thought we could have dinner together."

Locke smiled. "Of course."

Waiting for him to finish grooming, Marguerite sat on the edge of Locke's bed. Looking down, she noticed a newspaper with several bold headlines.

"There's been another bomb and two more earthquakes," she said.

Locke looked over and noticed the paper. "Yes, and America finally decided to join the war."

"World War II. I hoped I'd never see such a thing and it's getting worse. I don't want to think how long it's been going on."

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you cared."

"Maybe I do," she said, staring at the faces of terror captured in a black and white photo as a building crumbled in the background. Two more falling bombs could be seen in the air like grotesque birds.

Locke chuckled. "You do know how to make me laugh."

Dressed, he donned his coat and offered her his arm. She took it with a smile of her own.

Less than an hour later saw them seated in a cosy, elegant restaurant, a new Paris delight they'd discovered. The wine was ordered and poured, bread and cheese set out and their courses ordered. It was as good a time as any for Marguerite.

"I was wondering something, Francois," said Marguerite, taking a sip of wine. It was good, sweet, but not overly so.

"And what is that, my dear?" Parched from his journey, Locke took a deep drink from his own glass and refilled it.

"You went to Nuremburg to keep me safe," she said, lowering her eyes as though shy or emotional. Locke smiled gently.

"Of course."

The second of the pair of diamonds gleamed like ice in Marguerite's palm.

"If I asked, would you do it again?"

Locke's smile widened. "Yes."

The diamond remained pure and perfect in her hand and then, unable to help himself, Locke continued.

"I already have."

"Oh?" The diamond remained pure. "What did you do?"

"Have you ever wondered why Shanghai Xan never came after you?" His expression was smug. Marguerite was disconcerted, but held her tongue, unwilling to give anything away. As far as she knew, he'd not been told of her second theft from Xan let alone the first.

"Xan?"

"For the Ouroboros?" He chuckled. "That man can hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh," said Marguerite a little stiffly, wary now, "I'd believe it."

"He wanted to destroy your birth certificate, you, anyone and anything related to you."

"What did you do?"

"I convinced him it wasn't worth his time."

The diamond in Marguerite's hand turned smoky.

"When did you do that?"

Locke thought a moment. "Perhaps a few months after you joined us."

The diamond darkened ever so slightly.

"Do you know if he still has my birth certificate?" she asked, leaning forward.

Locke shook his head, pasting a sad frown on his face. "I'm afraid he burned it."

"How do you know? Maybe he just said he did."

"I tried to stop him, my dear, but he tossed it into the fire in front of me. There was nothing I could do."

"Was that the only time you met Xan?"

"Yes." Locke's brows furrowed at the question. "Of course."

"Did you know he told Maple White and me about the Plateau?"

"No."

"He knew the Protectors as well."

"Protectors?" There was a definite narrowing of his eyes. "Who or what are they?"

"It doesn't matter."

Glancing down, Marguerite saw the diamond was now the colour of mud. She looked back up into Locke's wary eyes.

"Thank you for taking care of Xan for me. He caused me many sleepless nights." Marguerite stifled the excitement brewing in her chest and gave up on that line of questioning. It wouldn't do to give herself away now. Besides, she had one other thing to ask now that she had her suspicion aroused. Coincidence. It had to be coincidence that Locke, Xan, Maple White, and the Laytons were all connected. There is no such thing as coincidence, she thought.

"Now, why don't you tell me who else I should convince to keep their distance?" Locke took her free hand and gently stroked the pale flesh. Marguerite took a deep breath and pasted her most innocently concerned expression in place.

"Have you ever heard of a person named Mordren?" Locke's hand stiffened momentarily, just enough that Marguerite noticed. She pretended not to feel the sudden coldness in his soul.

"I've heard the name, but little else."

"He was the enemy of the Protectors. I'm afraid he might one day seek me out. I did spend a great deal of time with the Protector's daughter."

Locke's suspicion faded into a sly smile. "I'm sure he won't bother you."

"I know it's been awhile, but I'm still afraid. He was so powerful. If he really wanted, I think he could find me." Marguerite was pleased to note how easily she lied and how easily he swallowed it.

"I really think you're safe from him."

"Why do you say that?"

"From what I've heard, he was only ever interested in the Protector. He's rumoured to be a rather single-minded man." He stroked her hand. "He's not interested in you. I'm sure of it."

Her hand ached from clenching the diamond so tightly. Her knuckles were white and palm stinging. Slowly so as not to draw attention to the movement, she loosened her fingers.

The diamond was black as coal. He lied.

Locke smiled at her, oblivious to her revelation.

XXXXXXX

"How does Locke know Mordren?" Marguerite asked.

"He doesn't."

Marguerite stared down at the man who cowered at her feet. He was bloody and still twitching from the pain she'd inflicted on his body. She needed no tools, no grotesque weapons of torture or even to get her hands dirty. Years of practice with her growing powers were proving worthwhile quite suddenly.

Simply narrowing her eyes, Marguerite caused a shock of electricity to run through Condillac's body until he screamed. The blood dripping from his nose and ears was a testament to the power and skill she'd developed in secret. He'd not even seen it coming. So much cleaner than the good old days, she thought.

They stood - or rather she stood and he lay, in Condillac's hotel room. All the doors and windows were shut tight against the starlight. The city was so loud even during night that she had no worries anyone would investigate if they did notice the man's cries. Having sealed the room with magic though, she rather doubted anyone would hear a thing.

"Locke knows Xan, better than he wanted to let on. Xan also knows Mordren. That's a bit too much of a coincidence for me even if Locke didn't know more about Mordren than he should."

Condillac screamed again. It was too much.

"Tell me."

"Mordren offered Locke a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

Condillac hesitated again and once more screamed in pain. When he could breathe again, he could take no more.

"You! Locke wanted you, and Mordren wanted you away from your friends. Because you weren't with them during the time of choosing, the power over the Plateau defaulted to the line of Mordren instead of the Protectors."

"Locke didn't take me away. I left."

Condillac looked away. Her eyes flashing dangerously, Marguerite stepped up and grabbed him by the throat to give him a little shake.

"What did he do?"

XXXXXXX

The Plateau was just as she remembered it. As soon as the rift closed behind her, there was the roar of a dinosaur. Unlike the last time she was in the jungle though, she felt no fear of the large reptile. She was stronger than anything the Plateau had ever seen.

Marguerite took a moment to look around and selected a path, the overgrown plants moving out of her way as though she were a brisk wind. She'd intentionally not arrived directly at the tree house so that she had time to take stock of the area and decide what she would say when she arrived.

Though it had been a long time since she'd been to the tree house, she instantly knew it didn't look the way it should. The roof had holes and sections of the wooden walls had rotted and fallen away. Some of the edges of the gaps were charred black.

The tree itself was dead, even the vines that crawled up the enormous trunk were dried and hanging down in trickles of brown.

Frowning, Marguerite stepped closer, disconcerted to note there was no longer an electric fence. Perhaps everyone had gone, but why was the tree house already so rundown? The answer to the horrible disrepair eluded her mind because she didn't want to see it.

The elevator still worked.

Entering the main room, Marguerite saw the inside of the tree house was a little better than the outside. The silver was still polished and there was fresh fruit and vegetables on the table and hanging from baskets. Everything was relatively clean, the furniture repaired and in its proper place.

A woman's soft gasp came from the stairs to the bedrooms.

"Who are you?" Marguerite demanded. She didn't bother drawing a weapon. The woman was in good physical condition, but too old to be a threat to Marguerite. She wore a faded grey tunic made of a light material she remembered the Zanga favouring. Were it not for her Caucasian features, Marguerite might have thought her to be one of their elders.

"Marguerite?" the old woman gaped, coming close, her voice so familiar. She reached out with a shaking hand and touched Marguerite's face and hair. There was disbelief and sadness in her voice.

Marguerite stared into the woman's eyes, sure she knew her from somewhere and more gently asked, "How do you know me?"

"It's me, Marguerite. Don't you remember me? I'm Veronica."

It didn't make sense to her. Her mind couldn't put together its memories of Veronica, young, blonde, strong and what it saw before it. Surely it hadn't been that long. This ancient creature could not be the stubborn woman Marguerite once tried to sell.

"Veronica?" The Trion pendant around Veronica's neck gleamed and realization hit. Of course, she thought. "I forgot. Time doesn't matter to me anymore." She looked over Veronica's wrinkled face. "But it matters to you."

Amused, Veronica shook her head. "You haven't changed at all."

"What happened here?" Marguerite gestured around the tree house.

"What do you think? Time... and Mordren."

"What?"

"Mordren attacked the tree house when you handed power over to him." Marguerite frowned, but didn't correct her. Though she'd not known, it was her choice to go with Locke which gave power to the Plateau's energy source over to Mordren's line instead of the Protectors. "We only just managed to keep him from destroying everything."

"Where is everyone?"

"I can tell you everything later. Right now, there's someone you need to see." Her gaze lost the twinge of anger and turned purely sad. "He's been waiting for you a long time."

"Who?"

Veronica took Marguerite's hand and led her downstairs. Outside Roxton's bedroom door Marguerite hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to see what was inside. Knowing there wasn't much time, Veronica gave Marguerite a shove.

Stumbling and suddenly flustered, Marguerite didn't immediately notice the old man in Roxton's bed. When she did, she gasped. The man opened eyes exactly like Roxton's and gazed evenly at her.

It felt so right to be near him again and so wrong that they should have been robbed of their time together that at once Marguerite was crying. She hadn't cried so hard since a child. She dropped to her knees at the edge of his bed, a hand at her mouth trying to stifle the sound of her grief.

"Hello, Marguerite," said Roxton with a weak smile.

"Oh, John, I'm so sorry."

He tried to shake his head, but only managed to tilt it a bit so he moved to take her hand instead. Weak, dying muscles trembled and gave up before he could finally feel her warm skin against his own. Feeling a rush of too many emotions to name, Marguerite took his hand and held it to her face, kissing it several times. The wrinkled fingers stroked her perfect skin and John smiled.

"You look just the same."

"Part of being immortal," she said. The hand not holding his reached to touch his face, his hair, relearning every line and texture. It broke her heart to see him so ancient and broken. That he was dying and close to the end didn't need to be explained to her. She could smell death.

"I'm not so lucky." He sighed. "Veronica didn't think you'd make it, but I knew you would come."

"How did you know?" She stared at his white hair, his deep wrinkles and still thought him handsome. That she loved him even now was unquestionable. "It's been so long."

"I know you."

Marguerite gave a watery chuckle. "Still so arrogant to think you know everything."

"I was right though. Maybe I know more than you give me credit for."

"Maybe." The tears had slowed, but they started up again as she gazed at him. "John, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." His breathing grew more laboured. He knew Death would be visiting soon. Unlike the last time they'd met, he was ready to accept his fate.

"I shouldn't have left." What she wouldn't give for the ability to turn him immortal as well.

"Locke tricked you." A wheezy inhale. A grimace of pain.

"I let him," she said, the revelation of Locke's trickery nowhere near as upsetting to her as her own act of betrayal. "I didn't have to trust him."

"It doesn't matter. You're here now."

"I love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to remember."

"Shh, don't cry." John tried to smile to show her how little he minded dying when it was his time. "I love you too. I always have. I'm just glad I could see you once more." It was the truth, utterly and without question.

XXXXXXX

Veronica and Marguerite sat at the kitchen table hours later, both with tear tracks still wet on their cheeks. Marguerite stroked one finger over John's family ring over and over again.

"We can bury him next to Challenger and Finn," said Veronica. Marguerite started to nod, then froze, growing rigid in her seat.

"You won't need to." Marguerite turned tortured eyes to Veronica, determination filling her. "Tell me what happened here."

"What does it matter? It's done."

"But it's not over. Tell me."

XXXXXXX

The light dimmed, leaving Marguerite standing in front of the ancient stone Veronica had once received a shock from when she'd touched her Trion pendant to it. Much more than just a carved piece of granite, the standing stone whispered things that befuddled even Marguerite's immortal mind. She tuned them out and looked instead to the jungle around her.

The iridium pendant, so similar to Veronica's, which Kartas had passed along so many years before, gleamed in her palm before returning to its natural sheen. She'd kept it along with her locket and all but forgotten them until her return to the tree house. Now they sat in a small velvet bag tied to her wrist along with her birth certificate and the Original Diamonds, the two gleaming stones she'd stolen back from Xan and used to determine the truth of her immortal life. She returned the pendant to the velvet holder. A bag borrowed from Veronica sat on her back, full of supplies. Along with the supplies, she had taken a set of her old clothes and brought her own pistol.

She had only a few days so she left the ancient standing stone and continued on.

Eventually, she came to a lightly hidden trail, created by the passing of two or more people not terribly long ago. She followed the prints to a clump of foliage, which parted at her approach to reveal a slight slope into a dark hole. Ducking inside, she already knew what she would find, but that didn't mean the sight had less of an effect on her.

The small cave was dark, but Marguerite had brought one of Veronica's lamps.

The light chased out the shadows and illuminated her pale skin and moved up the dirty breeches of Lord John Roxton. He lay unmoving with blood at his temple and his limbs tied tight. His eyes remained closed despite her approach. She didn't worry as much as she would have before her visit with Veronica.

To see him lying there hurt and so vulnerable made her see red a moment. Locke would pay one day. She'd make sure of that. However, right now she had to help Roxton.

Kneeling next to John, she cut his bonds then pulled him to lie on her folded legs and assessed his health, dismayed to sense how cold and weak he felt. She pulled off her pack and wrapped a blanket around him then took her canteen and dribbled some water into his mouth. When he'd swallowed as much as she could make him, she cleaned and bandaged his head then sat back and stroked his face, indescribably glad to be in his presence again.

Responding to the blanket and her warmth, John began to shiver, a good sign. She wrapped an arm around his chest, holding him closer and breathed in his masculine scent. After so many years with Locke, the difference in smell alone made her realize how different the two men were.

Ever the connoisseur, Locke was impeccably clean and groomed, surrounding himself with pretty things. His hair smelled of fine shampoos and his skin like expensive soaps and cologne. No matter where he was, his was the air of refinement and pampering.

John, on the other hand, was almost never clean. His rough life running from monsters prevented that. As a result, he carried the musk of testosterone, sweat, and rich, earthy soil. Breathing deep, she could also sense the touch of plants and wind, the smells of life. He smelled like the forest. That was the difference between the two men.

While both men were alive, only Roxton was living, his life force so entwined with the world around him that he absorbed even the smell of the wind. Locke merely existed in the world, taking from it in a weak attempt to regain what he gave up when he chose immortality. Marguerite knew this to be true because it was how she felt about herself. She knew immediately which of the two she preferred. Her resolve in her task dissipated just a bit.

His body warming and hydrated, John began to wake. With a groan, he opened his eyes and smiled at the vision staring down at him. His head hurt and he felt like he'd been lying in the cave for years since Liana and his ancestor dragged him there, but all that was nothing now. Marguerite's smiling expression held no more anger, bitterness, or false impassiveness. In fact, she looked at him so openly and with so much happiness that he wondered what happened to make her forget her intention to dismiss him.

"It's about time," he said. She chuckled and kissed his pale forehead.

"Well, I can't rush to save your life every day. A girl has to protect her reputation."

"Your reputation is always safe with me."

"Not likely, but maybe I don't care about that anymore." It was true though they used joking tones to cover their feelings.

"Oh? And what about everything else you wanted to keep safe?"

"We'll be safe together," she said, her lips turning up irrepressibly as he broke into a wide smile.

Then, ignoring his pains and weakness, John shifted and pulled her down for a kiss.

It lingered, all heat and tenderness and that's when Marguerite's plan and all her determination to carry it through to the end broke. It was her stolen life. Why could she not finally live it?

Her past self could go with Locke and she would stay with John.

XXXXXXX

The next two days were some of the best either Roxton or Marguerite could remember. They had few cares beyond getting Roxton better and Marguerite knew they were guaranteed privacy until Veronica and Finn showed up.

Of course, Marguerite had not told Roxton much, just enough to explain when and why she'd fled the tree house and distracting him thoroughly when he became curious about her change in demeanour. Tender kisses or even just some bad-tasting medicines were distractions enough and if some men disliked being babied, Roxton wasn't one of them. Roxton loved being the centre of her affections, though he hated needing to be nursed. Duty made him prompt once or twice that perhaps they should return home. Each time, she told him not to worry and insisted on one more day alone. She had her own selfish reasons for keeping him there besides allowing him time to heal. Their time together was as much a balm for her as it was for him and she revelled in it.

Still, she counted the hours until Veronica and Finn would stumble on their hideaway. It happened just as the future version of Veronica said it would.

There were women's voices outside and then Finn fell right into the entrance of the tunnel. Marguerite listened to Finn with amusement. She'd forgotten how bouncy the younger girl was.

"I'm all right," said Finn. "There's a tunnel down here."

Veronica descended as well, albeit in a more graceful manner. She ducked under the earthen overhang that led into the entrance then followed Finn's bent frame into a taller cavern.

They both straightened and looked around, blinking in the darkness.

Marguerite sat back against the cavern wall, uncertain what their reaction to her would be and allowed Roxton, who had woken from the commotion, to greet them. For a long moment there was just silence on both sides as the shock wore off. Roxton began to grin. There was a whoop from Finn and then she and Veronica rushed over to embrace Roxton with happy laughs.

"I knew you wouldn't propose to Liana," said Finn.

Roxton turned to Marguerite at that, a brow raised. She shrugged.

"Marguerite?" Veronica finally noticed the woman sitting in the dark corner.

"Hello, Veronica. Finn." She nodded to each in turn. Though a little surprised, the two blondes didn't look displeased to see her. Their smiles even widened.

"So this is where you've been."

Marguerite smiled and came closer. "Yes, and now we're all together, we'll need to do something about that imposter in the tree house."

"Oh, God," Veronica exclaimed, "and we left them alone with just Challenger."

"Challenger can handle himself until we get back," said Marguerite confidently. "They don't know we've figured them out."

"Still, we should get back as soon as we can." She looked at Roxton, who still sported an impressive bruise on his forehead. "Are you good to go?"

Roxton nodded. "I've had the best nurse in the world tending to me," he said with a fond look to Marguerite. She smiled back.

Amused at how soppy the couple had gotten, Veronica and Finn smirked, but held their tongues. In no time at all, they'd organized a plan and set out for the tree house. As they went, Marguerite counted out the days, noting that with her caring for John, they would drive the imposters out of the tree house about two days earlier than the previous time line.

XXXXXXX

Challenger was downstairs alone when he heard a clatter upstairs and at his lab window. He looked outside and saw a rope attached to a grappling hook dangling from the roof. Climbing up the rope was Marguerite and at the bottom, waiting for her to arrive safely, was Lord John Roxton.

Challenger brought his head back inside, his mind awhirl as he went upstairs and saw, just as he remembered leaving him, Roxton sitting in the main room with a book. Liana had one of the Layton's journals in her lap as well. Neither looked up and he promptly turned and walked back to his lab. He looked out the window again and Roxton was still at the bottom of the rope. Marguerite was nearer the top, just reaching for the windowsill.

"Good afternoon, Challenger," Marguerite whispered with a smile. She hauled herself over the ledge with a hand from the bemused scientist and motioned for Roxton to follow her.

"Marguerite, where have you been?" he asked, keeping his voice low like hers. He couldn't hide his shock when she pulled him into an embrace, but he returned the gesture with sincerity.

"I think explanations are best saved for later," she said and turned to help Roxton through the window. He was a faster climber than Marguerite. "Suffice it to say that this is the real Lord John Roxton and the man upstairs is an imposter."

Challenger helped them bring up and coil the rope after Roxton leaned out the window and took out the grappling hook.

"So, what are we doing?"

"We're waiting for Finn and Veronica," said Marguerite, listening at the lab entrance.

The three waited a minute and then there was the sound of the elevator. Marguerite counted the seconds until the sound of female voices trickled down. The elevator went back down. That was the signal.

Quick and light on their feet, Marguerite, Roxton, and Challenger climbed the stairs while the clamour of the elevator could cover the noise of their approach. Each had grabbed a weapon - Marguerite still had her pistols and John borrowed a knife from Veronica - and held it tightly.

Four sets of eyes turned to Roxton, Marguerite and Challenger. Four eyes widened with surprise and confusion, wavering between Roxton and Marguerite, who glared back.

"What's going on?" Liana asked, shifting restlessly. Her feet edged closer to the elevator, but that brought her closer to Veronica. The balcony was guarded by Finn and her crossbow. While Roxton and Challenger blocked the stairs, Marguerite kept her eyes on Liana. John's ancestor was little threat in her mind. He was human and driven by promises Mordren made to him. Liana, however, had the scent of magic around her.

Marguerite stilled her mind and listened more closely to the snapping and flowing energy in the air, particularly around the witch posing as Liana. While everyone else in the room was solid and smooth, like trees in a forest, only Liana and Marguerite exuded an extra spark, a certain crackle that resembled more the sparkling contrast of a star in the night sky. Their magic made them both part of and distinct from everything else around them.

"I can guess who you are," said John to his imposter and then turning to Liana, "but I'd sure like an explanation as to who or what you are."

What was she? Roxton wasn't the only one wondering that. The answer was so close that it frustrated Marguerite not to know it already. Liana seemed so familiar, but Condillac's knowledge had not included Liana's true identity, just her role.

Drifting closer until the two women were nose to nose, it took Marguerite a good few minutes to realize the rest of the room was watching. They seemed to expect something, but she doubted they would expect her to unleash the temper that was growing in the pit of her stomach. If she loosed it now, it would burn the tree house to the ground so strong was her energy. Instead, she allowed just a smidgen of her power to escape as she reached out and fingered Liana's hair. A few tendrils of energy, all but invisible to the naked eye crept up Liana's hair and drifted down her body, changing her back to her true form.

When Marguerite stepped aside so the entire room could see, there was a collective gasp.

In place of the beautiful native girl was a woman they had all believed to be dead. Danielle, the voodoo priestess, sneered at them.

"I think," said Marguerite it explain away the transformation, "your spell has worn off."

"In more ways than one it seems," said Danielle. Her dark, heavy-lidded eyes raked over her observers with a haughtiness Marguerite almost admired.

Finn, impatient for answers spoke up, her crossbow still levelled at the woman. "What was the point of all this?"

Captain Roxton pressed his lips together. He hadn't moved from his spot on the couch, but he didn't look comfortable in his seat. He shifted and at a glance Marguerite could tell he was the weakest link in Locke's plan. However, Danielle was too full of pride to be ignored. Pride before a fall, thought Marguerite. Indeed, the woman's pretty lips were curled into a wicked smile and her eyes danced. Like a child, she could only keep a secret for so long.

"You wanted to get me and Roxton away from the group," said Marguerite. She circled to Danielle's side, just in the other woman's peripheral vision. It was an intimidation tactic she'd learned from a mentor long ago.

Danielle's smile twitched. "So what if we did?"

"Who are you working for?" Finn demanded.

"Someone more powerful than a pitiful castaway like you could ever imagine." Danielle tossed her hair, chin high. "He will destroy you all."

"Who is he?" But this was information even Danielle knew better than to let slip. Despite her cavalier attitude, she had enough sense to fear her master's power. He was indeed very powerful.

Marguerite weighed the situation quickly and decided that now was as good a time as any to tell her friends at least a piece of what she knew. "I'm sure I can guess who sent you," she said and was gratified by the disappearance of Danielle's smile. "Mordren won't be very pleased to hear you've been caught."

Danielle turned sharply, eyes locking with Marguerite's. "How did -"

"He's been a growing influence around here. I'm not surprised in the least that he's still causing trouble."

Veronica's eyes had widened at Mordren's name and she looked from Danielle to Marguerite now, some suspicion already in their depths. "Mordren is dead, Marguerite. He can't be behind this."

"No, but your parents ensured the survival of the Protector's line," said Marguerite, her eyes still locked with Danielle's. "I'm betting Mordren did too and I'm also betting that Mordren Jr. looks remarkably like his departed father."

"Ridiculous," said Danielle, but she'd lost her conviction.

"Sorry, but you lose this round."

Quicker than lightening, Danielle reached for a tiny pouch at her waist and flung it to the ground. It exploded, leaving everyone coughing and blind. Everyone, except Marguerite and Danielle.

Marguerite could see through the dust as easily as she could the clearest of glass, which Danielle clearly wasn't expecting. Before Danielle could run, Marguerite seized the woman's arm and released some of her pent-up anger. A sound like a small explosion erupted from the point of contact and a blast of black energy sucked out the light around Danielle for a moment.

In an instant the dust cleared and the tree house occupants saw Danielle frozen in a position of sheer agony before she crumpled into dust and joined the contents of her bag of tricks on the tree house floor. A breeze moved in through the open windows and balcony, blowing the remains of the witch into the jungle to mingle with the elements she'd warped, twisted and manipulated in her search for dark power.

"What the hell was that?" asked Finn when she could speak.

"Some sort of massive burst of energy," said Challenger with a shrug. Really, he had no idea, but preferred to make a logical guess. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she spontaneously combusted."

"I'd say," said Veronica, "Mordren didn't want her to speak anymore." Of course, it never occurred to anyone that Marguerite had the ability or power to make a human being disintegrate into ash.

The group turned to the imposter Roxton, who still sat in the couch, now with his mouth slightly agape at what he'd witnessed. Lord John Roxton thought he'd take the lead this time. It was his ancestor after all.

"And just what was your part in all of this? Why would you betray your own kin for an evil man like Mordren?"

Captain Roxton looked between them all and chewed his lip, uncertainty and confusion battling it out on his features. Finally, he addressed Marguerite.

"I was told that you had to believe I - or that my descendant no longer loved you and you weren't welcome at the tree house by anyone. Locke said you had to be driven away from them, but that he'd collect you and wouldn't let you come to harm." He looked at John. "I swear, I didn't think anyone was supposed to be hurt."

"You knocked me on the head, stole my clothes," said Roxton, "bound, gagged me and left me for dead in a cave. You could have killed me."

"That woman, Danielle, said she loved you. I thought she was returning to care for your injuries."

"You thought, or you hoped?" asked Veronica with a glare. As much as she adored John, she didn't care much for his doppelganger ancestor.

"Perhaps hoped is more accurate," he admitted, "but you don't understand." He turned pleading eyes to John. "Those damned Spaniards have my wife and Mordren promised to help get her back if I pretended to be you."

"Mordren can't be trusted," said Veronica, "no matter what deal you made."

Captain Roxton shrugged. "What could I do?" He dropped his gaze, the seriousness of his situation sinking in. "I can not return home now. No doubt that bastard Spaniard captain will slit her throat."

There was enough humanity left in Marguerite for her to feel sympathy for the sea captain. Mostly this was because she understood him, which made it difficult to hate him though she wanted to. Sometimes immortality was a bitch. Still, she schooled her expression to one of unconcern.

"So, why did Mordren do all this?" asked Veronica. "What possible good could it do him to have us all separated?"

Captain Roxton shrugged. "I was not told much, just what I would need to infiltrate your little family."

"So we were separated. Why did you stay?"

"We had to stay until told otherwise. No one explained to me why."

Marguerite spoke up, her voice commanding like a queen. "Have you actually met Mordren?"

Captain Roxton nodded. "Yes. Tall, dark hair, square features, young. I'd say he's only a year or two older than your Miss Layton."

"Where was he?"

"I don't know. We did not arrive by conventional means. It was underground and there were... beings I've never seen or heard of before." He took a deep breath, shaky with his memory of the unusual collection of cutthroats and deceivers. When he raised his eyes to Marguerite's, she was all he could see. "I would not wish to cross any of them."

"What sort of beings?"

"Normal humans for the most part, but there were... You will think I'm insane."

"Try me."

"The most prevalent were very short with bald heads, elongated ears, claws, and no workable vocabulary."

Challenger and the two blondes shared a look. "Sounds like our visitors."

The tree house occupants remained silent, each contending with their own thoughts. Finally, Veronica and John shared a look. They had to decide something. They weren't equipped to hold a captive indefinitely and there was the hint of truth in the man's story. Could they really punish him for wanting to save his woman? After getting into so much trouble themselves, they all found such an idea difficult to swallow.

"We can lock him in the storage room until we figure something else out," said Veronica. John nodded. Finn took up the duty and with a quick jerk of her crossbow, indicated Captain Roxton should head downstairs. John backed her up. With a weary sigh, Captain Roxton did as they told him and settled into the storage room without complaint.

By the time Finn and John returned upstairs, the rest of the group was cleaning. Marguerite had a broom out and was sweeping the remnants of Danielle's attempted spell out over the edge of the balcony. Veronica was attempting to get the sparkling dust off the chairs and table and Challenger was hurriedly scooping up into a jar what Marguerite hadn't gotten on the first pass. John smothered a grin that rose as Marguerite impatiently swatted at the scientist's fingers with her broom when he didn't move fast enough.

Finn put her crossbow away and grabbed a spare rag to help Veronica. John, having little else to do, went down to the bedrooms to see if there was anything their deceptive guests had left that might explain why such a plot had been set in motion. It was a vain hope.

John searched his bedroom and then Marguerite's, both of which bore signs of being well lived in despite their stint away. He mused that at least one room would likely get overhauled as his hand snuck under Marguerite's mattress and his eye caught some new hooks holding colourful clothing that most definitely were not Marguerite's. She'd polished and cleaned everything touched by a spirit that manifested itself in the form of her dead friend, Adrienne. He imagined something on a grander scale this time. Nothing got Marguerite motivated like wiping away a bad memory.

There was nothing of interest under her mattress or hidden in her drawers, but then he wasn't intimately knowledgeable of what should be in there. Looking around, he realized he had no idea where to look. Marguerite would have to search her room herself. Just as this thought fully formed, the subject herself appeared.

"What are you looking for?" Marguerite asked. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and a brow raised.

"I thought I'd see if Danielle or our dear pirate captain left any evidence behind."

"Do you really think they would write out a confession?" She was laughing at him inside, a smirk and dancing eyes the only evidence of her amusement.

"No," he said with a bit of irritation, "but that doesn't mean they didn't leave something behind." He gestured around the room. "Why don't you take a look around and see what's different."

Marguerite glanced around without much care. "I don't see anything."

Roxton was confused. "But those clothes aren't yours and neither is this box," he said, pointing to the hanging folds of cloth and a wooden jewellery box on her vanity.

Internally she cringed at her thoughtlessness, but held her nonchalant demeanour. "Except those. There's nothing that looks like a map to an evil lair anyway."

John laughed. "I suppose not. Well, if you need any help cleaning out what isn't yours, just give me a holler." He made to leave, but Marguerite put an arm across the doorway, blocking his exit.

"And what if I need help with something else?"

"What did you have in mind?" John wouldn't have been surprised if he stuttered a bit. Was it his imagination, or was there more heat in her voice and look than a forest fire? It wasn't his imagination. Her arms snaked around his neck and hugged him close as her lips captured his. John couldn't remember the last time Marguerite was the aggressor of their relationship, but she was now and he loved it.

XXX

Dark had fallen just over two hours ago, leaving the tree house quiet and peaceful, but not entirely asleep. Marguerite waited until she could sense the voids that were her friend's sleeping minds. When certain they were all dreaming, she left her bed. She was fully dressed, prepared for a walk in the night.

Captain Roxton was asleep, but not deeply so it was easy to wake him with a gentle touch. Marguerite put a finger to her lips to indicate he should keep quiet. She didn't know what he saw in her face that led him to do as she bid, but he nodded at once, his expression one of trust, and followed her without hesitation.

Without speaking, they soon were down the elevator and past the electric fence. Roxton had his own weapons again while Marguerite carried nothing. She didn't mind and Roxton didn't ask why she walked so surely without protection. Perhaps he sensed as the rest of the jungle's creatures sensed that she needed nothing.

"Do you remember saving me?" Marguerite asked him after they'd walked an hour or so.

"From those monks? Yes, I remember."

"They weren't monks. They were druids."

"Impossible."

"You'll find not much is impossible here." They were silent for a little while. Then Roxton's curiosity got the better of him.

"Just where are we going?"

"I'm sending you home."

"You have the power to do that?" He was astounded. "Why did you say nothing earlier?"

"My friends don't need to know what I can do."

"I was under the impression you and your friends were attempting to leave this place."

"They are. I've come to realize the value of the Plateau and my place on it."

"You know why Locke wanted you away from your friends, don't you?"

There was no point lying to him. "Yes, but you don't need to know the reason."

He didn't contest her statement and they continued on for another long while in silence. Eventually they came to the Protector's standing stone, the instrument through which travel to other worlds was possible. Roxton just saw a stone.

From beneath her blouse, Marguerite withdrew the pendant she'd received from Kartas, the twin of Veronica's Trion. She held it to the standing stone so that it was a bridge between her palm and the rock. Closing her eyes, she concentrated.

Captain Roxton gave a shout as a light appeared from the standing stone and engulfed him. In less than a second, he had disappeared from the jungle and reappeared on a beach. He looked around himself and saw the unguarded Spanish skiffs sitting on the sand as though waiting for him. He looked out in the darkness and could just make out the lights from the Spaniard's ship. He smiled the roguish smile that had won him his lover's affection. His first stop would be the Spanish ship and then a triumphant return to England.

Still on the Plateau, Marguerite turned dispassionately from the standing stone and headed back to the tree house. Her footprints disappeared as though a perpetual tide followed her feet. All that was left to mark the trail she'd taken were the prints Captain Roxton left.

She made it back home in time for a few hours of sleep. It wasn't much, but after a lifetime of immortality, she found she needed very little rest. When she woke again, she looked over her bedroom as she dressed, hoping to find something of interest left by Liana. She may have lain in bed awhile just to keep up appearances, but with immortality came a tendency to become easily bored. Despite laughing at John earlier, she knew the voodoo witch was just proud enough to be careless. However, by the time the smell of breakfast drifted down to her, all she'd uncovered were a few bits of spellcraft and clothing. Either Liana had kept her secrets to herself or she'd known none.

"You're up early," commented Veronica. She and Finn were just putting out the last touches of breakfast on the table. Finn hastily brought out the coffee, anticipating an unruly heiress, but Marguerite just smiled and sat down.

"Is Challenger in his lab already?"

Finn's lips crooked. "Are you sure he went to bed?" Marguerite and Veronica chuckled.

"Ah, it seems I'm the last one up for once," said Roxton as he climbed the stairs to see the three women at the table eating.

"And here I thought you would be out doing something useful," said Marguerite. Her bright eyes belied the tone of her words and after a second, an irrepressible grin spread on her lips then his.

"Sorry, my dear, but I think I'm still feeling the effects of that bump to my head." He rubbed the spot on his skull where a small lump was still fading. It had been more than just a bump though and he was glad he'd not spent any longer in the cave. He didn't know how long he could have survived it.

"Poor baby. Would you like some pampering?" Though she tried to make it sound flippant, Marguerite was honestly concerned when he mentioned his wounds. It might not have struck her heart so if she'd not so recently held her own John Roxton as he died.

Luckily, John and the women took Marguerite's offer as a joke and shook their heads. Roxton leaned in despite the audience to whisper a teasing enticement in her ear. "Only if you're offering."

"So," Finn started before Marguerite had to come up with an appropriate response, "what's on the agenda for today?"

"We'll have to figure out what to do with our prisoner," said Veronica. "We'll have to return him to his time or else everything will change. Maybe Roxton won't even be born."

All eyes turned to John, who shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm still here so it can't have changed history too much."

"Maybe we can use Challenger's - what did he call that thing he used to send us to New Amazonia?" Marguerite set out a cup of tea for John, fixed just as he liked. He smiled in thanks.

"I don't recall." He sipped his tea, making a pleased sound.

Finn popped some fried pork into her mouth. "Well, it transports things so why don't we call it a transporter like on Star Trek?" Her companions looked at her in bemusement. Marguerite alone understood, but kept that to herself.

"What is Star Trek?" asked Veronica.

After Finn gave a thorough explanation, prompting some laughs and sniggers, Roxton decided he better bring some food and water down to his ancestor. He hoped he could ask some personal questions while he had the chance. It wasn't often one could meet their buccaneer relative from about three hundred years in the past.

"He's gone." It came out quiet and disbelieving. Then as the realization that the store room truly was empty sank in, Roxton grew concerned, which made him angry. He returned upstairs in a flurry.

"He's gone." All three women jumped a bit as Roxton tossed the full plate onto the table and went for his guns.

"Did he take anything with him?" asked Veronica doubtfully after a quick look around.

Marguerite disappeared downstairs to tell Challenger of their missing prisoner while everyone else quickly gathered supplies.

"I didn't see anything missing."

"Then he can't get too far," said Finn. She looked over their stockpile of weapons. "But it looks like he's taken his guns with him."

"Challenger is going to stay here," said Marguerite as she climbed back up the stairs. "I have to agree. There's no reason for all of us to go after one unarmed man."

As much as John didn't like having her out of his sight, he nodded his agreement. Veronica and Finn were better trackers anyway and more than a match for Captain Roxton. He drew closer to her, asked her to keep a sharp eye out and after a quick squeeze of her hand, he joined the two blondes in the elevator.

The trail was clear and straight, allowing Finn, Veronica, and John to follow quickly. It took them very little time to come to an area they knew all too well. The standing stone was just ahead and it didn't take any effort for them all to realize just what they would find. Sure enough, the tracks stopped right at the stone and that was all to see.

The trio returned home, confused and uncertain. They could not be sure Captain Roxton returned to his own time and place, but John was still with them. They kept wondering if they'd notice things change, but then if history was changed, they ought not to notice because it wouldn't so much change but simply be different from the point of creation. It was a difficult concept and their thoughts all kept in that circle right up until they were back in the tree house and the smell of delicious cooking took them by surprise.

It was just the right time for a late dinner and their mouths watered despite their initial shock and wariness of seeing Marguerite in the kitchen. They sniffed experimentally, but didn't detect anything burning. In fact, she seemed to have been successfully creative.

Marguerite felt eyes on her and turned to see John watching her, brows raised and eyes wide. "What?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Marguerite?"

"I beg your pardon?" Did he suspect? Had they met someone who could have told them about her? Her heart thumped in her throat.

"It smells good," said John with a smile to show he was joking. "What inspired this?"

"Oh." Marguerite relaxed. "Challenger didn't need me downstairs and I didn't have much else to do so I thought I'd have something ready when you three got back."

He drew closer. "That was very thoughtful."

Marguerite shrugged. In truth she still disliked cooking and her little meal was nothing compared to Blum's superb culinary delights, but she was glad to have something to offer her friends. Though they didn't know she'd abandoned them - and abandonment is how she now saw it - she still felt a need to compensate.

Emboldened by their recent time together, John circled her waist with his hands and ran his palms firmly up her sides. Around the curtain of her hair, he saw her cheek lift in a smile. He moved in and kissed her neck. She leaned into him and he opened his mouth, suckling hotly and scraping her with his teeth. She moaned as he unlatched his lips and moved to nibble her earlobe.

"Do you want me to - oh. Sorry." Veronica's interruption made all three flush. Roxton, however, didn't step away from Marguerite and she didn't move out of his hands. It was his test for her and she had long gotten over Victorian prudishness and almost completely forgotten why she'd discouraged his affections in the first place.

"If you can get the plates, I would appreciate it, Veronica," said Marguerite patiently. There was a twinkle in her eye as she looked up at John and saw him smiling widely. He leaned down and kissed her soundly even with Veronica less than two feet away and Marguerite did nothing to discourage him.

Veronica took the plates from their shelves and left as quickly as was dignified. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with public affection. Few cultures on the Plateau were and those were the people she'd been raised by. However, she was not used to it in her present companions.

"Looks like Marguerite and Roxton made up," she said in an undertone to Finn as they set the table. Finn smiled.

"Good."

"How long do you think the peace will last this time?" Finn asked with a smirk.

"A long time I hope."

XXX

For many years the ancient Olmec city had been left to the forest, its paths only partly cleared by adventurous animals and the few humans designated to guard it. Only twice after the city's destruction had there been anything of interest and then it had lain dormant for centuries. Some cultures may have abandoned their task of guarding piles of slowly crumbling rubble, but not the Olmecs. Their memories were too well kept, their sages too well informed by the spirits to think the Evil they guarded against would not come again. The two times the Evil came before, they'd let it pass, not content but unwilling to start war when the Evil led single men to their doom.

Then, after many years of waiting, the Evil came a third time and this time he sought something or someone from the Plateau. This could not be allowed. The guardians had run to gather reinforcements, but by the time they'd arrived, others had stopped the Evil and chased it from the Plateau. The native guardians did not understand what the sudden attraction was, but the Evil was back and looking again.

In the jungle, near the old temple where he'd destroyed his old life and started a new one, Locke emerged from a shimmering rift. He was splattered in blood and alone. While he usually projected a certain charm or even mischievousness, now his eyes blacker than a raven's wing. He looked around, his dark brows pinched and his eyes narrow.

There would be hell to pay.

XXX

Apropos of nothing, Marguerite paused in her dusting and shuddered. Because Roxton had a hard time not looking at her, he saw this.

"What is it?" He worried, thinking she'd come down with something and not told him, but she shook her head to dispel his concern.

"Nothing. I guess someone just walked over my grave," she joked. When he looked away, her smile vanished. She had no idea what made her shudder unless it was proximity to Locke as he seduced her past self. That must be it, she decided.

XXX

As they usually did, the tree house companions spent a quiet evening inside and consumed with little chores or pleasures. Veronica read her parent's journals while Roxton wound down with a bit of spirits and his eyes on the vast expanse of stars visible from the balcony. Challenger remained in his lab, fixing and fiddling while Marguerite mended some clothes and patiently helped Finn with her reading.

When Finn's eyes began to grow heavy Marguerite closed the book and suggested they get some sleep. "It'll be here tomorrow," she said and placed the book back on the shelf. Finn nodded and bid everyone a good night. Marguerite followed soon after, a jaw-cracking yawn her proof of exhaustion.

Roxton was so absorbed in his meditations on the balcony that he didn't notice the disappearance of Finn or Marguerite until Veronica also went to bed and asked him to turn out the lights when he was done. He looked around, a little startled and disappointed that Marguerite hadn't spent some time with him outside. Still, he couldn't hold it against her so he swallowed the last of his modest drink, turned out the lights and made his way to his own room. When he stepped inside, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Marguerite?"

"Hush," she admonished quietly. She smirked at him from her position on his bed. She'd changed into a nightgown, but it was one she usually reserved for the warmest of nights. Judging by John's open mouth, it wasn't one he'd seen her in. His open admiration was exquisitely flattering.

"What -" He couldn't even finish a sentence he was too flabbergasted and excited by the sight of her waiting for him. "Are you here for me?" he finally managed to say.

Marguerite chuckled quietly. "Well, I'm not here for Challenger." John flushed. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together. "I'm here for you, John. I'll always be here for you."

His lips descended on hers and in a second her blood was boiling past endurance. She deftly opened his belt and practically tore his shirt open. Marguerite wasn't the only one affected.

With a guttural growl, John crushed her to him and lifted her up so that she was wrapped around his waist. It wasn't enough for either. He let her down when she lowered her legs and she pulled him by his open shirt to the bed. Roxton took off his boots and the rest of his clothes in record time, leaving just his trousers so that he could maintain some sanity. He didn't want to forget himself and leave her behind the first time they made love.

When he looked down at her, his eyes feeling like a physical caress, Marguerite realized she'd never felt more vulnerable. When he kissed her, his hands teasing the flesh he'd so openly admired, it was the coolest balm she'd ever felt and the utter trust she had in his slow, deliberate moves made her tingle all over. She'd forgotten how wonderful he was, but he still thought she was his Marguerite.

Roxton heard her sigh of frustration, could feel her desire for urgency in her greedy fingers, but it confused him. "I thought you liked it slow," he said as his lips worked their way from her shoulder to her neck. She moaned, one hand trying to pull her nightgown off despite his weight against her.

"When did I say that?" She couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Even when his fingers weren't touching anything particularly intimate, they held her attention completely.

"When -" He thought about it, his actions pausing for a moment while he tried to dredge up old memories half clouded by madness and fully clouded by shame he'd done his best to forget. "God, I can't believe I forgot it! Don't you remember?" he asked, looking down at her from his perch above. "I came into your tent when I was under the influence of that... disease and you asked me not to go so fast." His lips quirked. "You said you'd dreamed about it."

Marguerite couldn't remember. It was a dim, half-coloured photograph against a vibrant movie that had been her life since immortality. Some things stood out despite the changes Locke made in her simply because they were too important or she'd thought over them too much to ever forget.

Disturbed by her confusion, Roxton stopped kissing and waited for her to answer. She was half asleep when she'd said it, but he didn't doubt for a moment that she would have remembered. He'd really only forgotten because he'd been terribly ashamed of his actions. Not to mention that he'd been ill and the cure nearly killed him, but she should remember. Suspicion, horrible suspicion crept into him.

"Then that steamy night before we went to rescue Veronica and Ned from Edgar Grey, you told me you loved it when we took our time." He grinned, forcing it out onto muscles practically frozen with wariness. "We certainly took our time that night. Don't you remember?"

She had a vague recollection of numerous embraces and kisses exchanged, but the exact extend of their contact was muddled. She remembered making love with him the night she left, could remember being close to him on many other occasions, but nothing specific. She'd had too many adventures in her human and immortal life to perfectly recall them all when she'd taken the attitude that they didn't matter.

Confused by things from so long ago and the pressure of his expectation, Marguerite did the only thing she could think of and agreed. "Yes, I remember, but that doesn't mean we can't change things up tonight," she said with a wicked grin. Roxton's lips lifted in a tender smile, his eyes twinkling in the dark as he leaned over to kiss her deeply.

His tongue darted between her lips and she arched into him only to have him pull back, her wrists firmly held between his larger hands. In less time than it took for her to become sensible of her plight, he'd used his belt to tie her hands together.

"John, what are you doing? This isn't what I had in mind."

"I'll bet it's not," he said grimly. While she was still bemused, he forced her to lie down, using his greater body weight to hold her. "Now, why don't you tell me who you really are?"

"What?" Her eyes widened in real concern.

"Are you another one of Mordren's minions in disguise? What did you do with Marguerite?" At the thought of his love in the hands of Mordren, his temper began to get the best of him. He gave the imposter a harsh shake. "Where is she?"

"John," said Marguerite with a gasp, wholly unused to such treatment and never expecting it from him of all people, "I am Marguerite. What are you talking about?"

"It was you and me - or rather me and Marguerite who were captured by Edgar Grey."

"Isn't that what you said?" She tried for innocence only to have it literally shaken out of her.

"What have you done with her?"

This had gone on long enough for her temper to snap. Marguerite half closed her eyes and in a second Roxton was on his back on the floor, moaning. The belt around her wrists loosened and fell to the floor as she stood. Her eyes had gone dark so that they were an inky black in the lamplight.

"Damn it. I'm so sorry, my love," she said as she stood over him, her eyes clearing. John fully regained consciousness as she crouched over him. He tensed and made to move away, but she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. His eyes darted to it warily then back to her face.

"What are you?"

"I am Marguerite. It's just another secret I've been keeping." This would have been an ideal chance for her to tell the truth and warn him that her past self was going to leave in a few days, but she was selfish with her desire for him. Quickly she thought of a plausible lie.

"What secret?"

She glanced at the bed. "Sit with me and I'll tell you."

Wary, but with little recourse, John nodded and joined her on the edge of the mattress. "What have you been keeping from me this time?"

"It's nothing so dreadful," she assured him. "When I left," she looked to him and he nodded to show he understood she'd left believing him in love with another as she'd already explained, "I was very dispirited. I went to that standing stone of Veronica's. I didn't tell you that the last time we met Kartas he gave me an iridium pendant similar to the Trion, did I?" John shook his head. "Well, he did. I don't know what I was thinking, but I placed it on the stone as she did and it had a similar result."

"Oh, and what did you dream of while you were unconscious?" he asked doubtfully.

"Actually, I didn't dream. I hit my head and woke up quite muddled. I'm afraid some things have been fuzzy since."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? You could have a serious concussion..." Marguerite's spirit brightened until he finished, "if that's what really happened."

"It is. I didn't say anything because I'm fine. It'll take me awhile to get back to normal, but I didn't want anyone to worry."

"And how do you explain pushing me across the room as you just did?"

Here Marguerite didn't really have to lie. She reached under her nightgown and pulled from a hidden fold the iridium pendant. With the realization of its power it had become one of her most precious possessions, outweighing even the value of her locket.

"This?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It just sort of happened." He still looked doubtful so she allowed her eyes to brim with tears. It was a smart move with predictable results. He could never resist a damsel in distress, especially when it was her.

"Come here," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Back in Marguerite's bedroom the Original Diamonds, the ones responsible for her discovery of Locke's deception, sat hidden in her boot. Instead of the clear white they should have been, they looked more like lumps of coal.

As Marguerite sniffled in his arms, Roxton felt his exhaustion pressing him. He guided her to lie down with him. She wrapped herself around him, sighing in pleasure as he stroked her hair, and together they relaxed into sleep.

XXX

The morning dawned bright and cheery. If anyone suspected what the day might hold, they forgot it in light of the soft sun and delightful breeze that tempered the hot weather.

Marguerite woke slowly, pleasantly warm and flush against the source of that warmth. A steady heartbeat beneath her ear made her smile and snuggle closer. A chuckle rumbled from the same chest she leaned against.

"Are you awake yet?"

"No," she mumbled. The rumble took up again.

"Well, as happy as I'd be to stay here with you all day, we better get up before someone comes to check on us."

"I don't care if they do. I'd rather stay here."

"As flattered as I am, I don't think you really mean that. Come on, time to get up." It took a little prodding but eventually Marguerite unfolded from his side and went to her room to dress. Roxton reminded her that they had laundry to do that day so she might as well dress for a walk to the river.

When they went upstairs all was still quiet and a note left on the table greeted them.

"Finn and Veronica went fishing and then they'll go to the garden," said Roxton as Marguerite moved into the kitchen in search of sustenance. "Challenger went with them to hunt for bugs."

"How delightful."

"I guess that means we have the tree house to ourselves for a few hours." There was silence in the kitchen. Roxton looked up to see Marguerite gazing at him with a small smile in place. The laundry could wait. "Any ideas on what we should do with our time?"

"I might have one or two," she said and ran to him. Roxton was almost knocked over when her body met his, but he enthusiastically embraced her. Their lips met and for a few minutes the rest of the world fell away. They didn't even notice the elevator rising.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything," said an all too familiar male voice. Whereas it was usually full of confidence and lurking laughter, now it was full of anger.

Roxton took in the appearance of Francois Locke with chivalry. He moved to block Marguerite from view despite his lack of weapons.

Locke casually levelled a handgun at them. John didn't recognize the calibre, but Marguerite knew it to be his newest favourite, a 9mm SIG Pro pistol. Someone else had travelled back in time. She'd seen him use it once or twice and didn't like having it pointed her way. However, something in his aura was off and after a second she realized why. This was not the Locke of the future but of the past. Still the presence of the gun suggested her own Francois was nearby as well.

"My dear Marguerite, I am very disappointed in you."

"You stay away from her," said Roxton, warning in his tone and stance.

"Why don't you silence your pet, Marguerite? I will kill him in due course, but it doesn't have to be as painful as I can make it if he continues to irritate me."

"You won't be killing anyone today," said Marguerite quietly. While Roxton's eyes occasionally darted to the sides, looking for an out, she stared steadily at Locke. "Why don't you put down those guns and we can talk about this?"

Before Roxton could protest her idea, the immortal man's eyes narrowed and there was a definite darkening of the air around him. "Don't you dare try to work your wiles on me, woman," he shouted, stomping close enough that he could have struck her if there wasn't an English aristocrat in the way. "You belong to me and it's time you learned it."

"She doesn't belong to anyone, least of all you." This time Roxton's tongue was corrected with a backhand. With the pistol as leverage, the result was quite effective. Roxton stumbled to the side, a hand to his face while Locke grabbed the back of Marguerite's neck, pinching tightly.

"You can pretend," she said with a hiss, "but I know you're not my Francois."

His eyes widened a bit, but he kept his composure. "You're right. My future self decided to have some fun while I fetched you. How did you know?"

"I'm stronger than you." Locke laughed.

"I think not." He pinched her harder. "From where I'm standing, I think I have the upper hand."

"You just think that, but I will destroy you."

"I am your god!"

"No, you are a pathetic, manipulative bastard I'm sorry to have been acquainted with."

"I made you!"

"You killed me."

"I made you immortal and I can unmake you just as easily," he said, pressing the barrel to her stomach.

"Yes, you made me, but undoing something isn't always as easy as you'd think."

There was a blinding flash of light, the sound of an explosion, and a blast of hot air that blew everyone to different ends of the room.

Marguerite regained her equilibrium first, being the originator of the energy explosion and followed it up by raising her hand when Locke raised the gun.

The bullet, instead of piercing her heart, bounced off a thin sparking of energy emitted by her palm. A larger spark and Locke was once again flung back.

Locke only saved himself by countering with his own force. The air around him grew black as night, absorbing the light of her attack. It seemed to pull all energy from the room. It sucked and pulled until Locke pushed it out with a roar.

Marguerite shielded herself and while he was still gathering himself, she tapped into the life force of everything around her. The great tree in which they perched would have provided enough, but she dove deeper than that and touched on the power of the insects, the birds above, the crawling things below, even the vines and flowers wrapped around the tree.

When she could sense everything, she let it flow through her in a single bolt of power.

It was deafening and blinding and at the end of it, she felt weak and Locke was no more. She watched him blink once and then slowly decay like the dead thing he was. All his darkness and magic seemed to leak from him like fog from a farmer's field. It left him drying and mummified as it evaporated back into the nether from which it had come. In the end all that was left of the so-called trickster god, the murderer of his own village, the philanderer without conscience, was a pile of dried bones that looked to have been soaking in a pond or well for centuries.

Marguerite sighed in relief and then realized Roxton had said and done nothing during the whole battle. She looked to him and gasped.

He lay where he'd fallen, the bullet meant for her having ricocheted off her hand and into his chest. A pool of crimson liquid had already formed around him and as she rushed over, she saw clearly the light of life fading from his eyes.

"Don't, John, don't you dare leave me." He couldn't reply, though he tried to. Blood gurgled in his throat and trickled down his chin. Looking him over, Marguerite knew she had very little time. She placed a hand over the wound and the other on his cheek. "Look at me, John," she coaxed. His eyes slid to her face and once she had them, she held his gaze. It was difficult, but she ignored the pain and distrust she saw in them.

Opening her mouth as though to kiss, she leaned forward and breathed into him. It was a peculiar sensation for them both.

For an instant she could feel everything about him, the pain of the bullet, the sting of betrayal... Yes, he'd heard that she was made immortal though he hadn't yet guessed the extent of her guilt. She could feel his sadness, his own needless shame at not having saved her, his acceptance of death this way, and most strongly of all she could feel his love for her.

For John's part, he could feel much the same of her, but stronger for he was the recipient in this exchange. A tear escaped his eye as he sorted through all her agony, her joy in seeing him again, her desire to hold on to the life she'd left behind, and a million other thoughts and feelings she'd denied so long that they'd become like a rehearsing puppet show behind a curtain.

The wound was healed and still they stared into each other's eyes.

"You let him change you," Roxton finally said. Marguerite let him up and they sat like children on the wood planks of the floor.

"Yes." There was no point trying to deny it now. There was no point lying anymore at all. He'd never trust her again.

"When?"

"In about eight days for you. About forty something years ago for me."

"You're not my Marguerite." After the joy of having her near, so open and loving, it strained his heart in a painful way to know she wasn't the woman he'd come to love.

"No," she looked away, tears brimming, "but I wish more than anything that I could be."

"What did you think you could gain from this?" It was a quietly asked question for though Roxton felt he had great reason to be angry and to demand answers, he didn't have the emotional strength for an outburst at the moment.

"You." Marguerite gave a sad chuckle. "Just you." She dared to meet his eyes, to try to convey her honesty and the terribly strong emotions which had gripped her. "I left you because I thought it was better for us both, certainly safer for you, and I gave up my mortal life thinking you had given up on me. By the time I pieced together what Locke had done, too many years had passed to make things right." She sobbed once. "Mordren won. You were dead and with you went every hope I had for happiness."

"So you decided to come back, not just to the Plateau but to the past, and change things."

"I wanted to help you get better and then convince my - my past self to go back to the tree house, but when I was with you..." In her shame she looked away, eyes glassy.

"What?"

"My one lifetime -" Marguerite took a deep breath, steadying herself. "It all appeared to be a vast expanse with no light or warmth, but when I was with you, I felt alive again, connected with something greater and infinitely better than anything I'd felt with Locke. I wouldn't have given you up," she admitted, "if he hadn't come."

"You would have let it happen all over again?"

"I'm essentially a selfish creature, John." Out of old habit, he began to protest, but she placed a hand on his arm. "I am. If I wasn't before immortality as you seem to believe, then I am now. Locke's tutelage was thorough in that regard and he was right when he told me that immortality changes people. You would not love me if you knew what I have done... what I have become."

"Then redeem yourself," he said with enthusiasm. Hope seized him at the thought of having such a powerful being help him find his lover. "Help me stop him from doing to my Marguerite what he did to you."

Marguerite nodded. "Of course, but we'll have to move quickly. Francois obviously is on to us and he'll be more difficult to kill than this one."

"What do you... that wasn't the Locke from your time line." Marguerite shook her head. "How could you tell?"

"I have my ways. Besides, a few extra decades of practice and some supernatural help has made mine much more powerful."

XXX

Veronica twisted yet again ineffectually against the ropes that bound her, Finn and Challenger together. Challenger hissed in pain as her movement made the bonds dig into his already bleeding flesh. They were tied and well and that was apparently how they would remain until rescue or release. The one holding them was none other than a very irate Francois Locke.

To the trio's astonishment, they had been ambushed by one Francois Locke and delivered, trussed and bruised to an identical man who also answered to the name. It was beyond confusing and the adventurers were at a loss for an explanation. This second Locke had taken them deeper into the forest and to an ancient city Veronica and Challenger recognized. When the trickster god left them tied in a dark and crumbling stone house, they explained to Finn that it was part of Locke's original home and connected to a set of pools in which he'd once tried to drown Marguerite.

"You don't think he's come back to finish the job?" asked Finn as Veronica settled back down.

"With Francois Locke," said Challenger, "there's really no way to say what he's after. He already has most of Marguerite's jewels."

"There must be something else then," said Veronica. She thought back to when Marguerite and Roxten were captured by slavers. Prior to searching for them, the tree house had been visited by a group of strange creatures who seemed to be after a golden key. Though no one in the tree house claimed to know of such a thing, Veronica was all too aware of how Marguerite hid her treasures with a vicious determination. Maybe she had it after all and Locke was after that. She mentioned as much to the others.

"No," said Challenger with certainty. "I don't believe she'd keep that from us." Veronica snorted, but didn't comment further and a rustling outside distracted them from further discussion.

Male voices drew closer, the rough language uninterpretable to any of the trio. Though they didn't sound particularly dangerous, that could be because the speakers didn't know of the captives stowed in the ancient stone house. The voices were nearly right at the door when they suddenly stopped. With a low groan, Veronica envisioned the men noticing tracks or some disturbance in the vegetation that would lead them right to their location. Sure enough, in a moment more, a face dodged in and out of the doorway. Six anxious eyes stared at the spot, waiting for an attack. The face bobbed in again, this time for longer. Dark eyes met theirs and the dark-skinned native man peered more boldly into the room. His sharp gaze took in their position and the otherwise empty room with some confusion. He asked them something that they couldn't understand. When it was apparent they couldn't communicate, he called to his comrades and five other men entered. Together, they separated out Finn, Veronica and Challenger, securing their hands but leaving their feet unbound. Then, guarded on all sides by a spear and numerous knives, they all left the dilapidated building and headed to the outskirts of the ruined city.

It wasn't a terribly long walk, but with tensions running high and previous injuries straining them, Challenger and even the two women felt a need for rest by the time they entered a humble little village. Children ran around, stopping their games to stare at the strangers in awe. Women glanced their way, but quickly turned back to their work with disinterest.

They were led to the largest wooden hut in the centre of the village, which could only belong to the leader. Made to kneel in front of a robust man in his prime and covered in colourful paint, the tree house friends couldn't help but wonder if their situation had improved or degraded.

"Are you our enemy?" asked the man covered in paint. After sharing surprised looks with the women, Challenger answered him, assuming the man was the chief.

"I don't know who your enemy is, but we wish no one harm."

"Who is your enemy?"

Challenger was startled a moment, but tried once more. "We aren't here to harm anyone. We just-"

The scientist would have continued on, but Veronica had a growing suspicion which she chose to act on. "We are the enemy of Olmec."

Finn and Challenger looked at her in surprise, but the chief nodded and made a motion to the guards. At once their ropes were removed and they rubbed abused skin.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Veronica explained to Finn and Challenger.

"Yes," said the chief, "Olmec is our enemy. Centuries ago he helped to destroy our great city. Only a handful escaped and we have guarded against him ever since."

"Fat lot of good you are then," said Finn, ignoring her friend's warning looks. "He's been back twice and you haven't done anything about it."

"The god is strong. We do not interfere unless his ambitions grow too dangerous. If he wishes to add one or two lost souls to his group, then we let him."

"And what do you plan to do now?"

The chief looked at Finn with some amusement then shrugged. "You may go."

Finn and Veronica were happy with that and would have run from the village then, but Challenger couldn't. "You may want to stop him now. There's two of him and we think he may be interested in one of our friends."

The chief looked momentarily puzzled. "Your friend is not our concern, but how are there two?"

"We don't know, but there are. We saw them with our own eyes."

The chief spoke rapidly to some of his surrounding warriors. They nodded and disappeared into the forest at a run. The man then turned back to the explorers. "Tell me what you know of him."

"Well, we -" Challenger's recitation was cut off rather abruptly by the arrival of two warriors who spoke quickly to the chief. Though the majority of the conversation was lost on the trio of tree house companions, one word spoken several times stood out like an alarm: Olmec.

XXX

"They're not here," said Marguerite with certainty. She moved her rifle to her other shoulder, shrugging out the discomfort from the heavy weapon. "I would feel their presence if they were."

Roxton looked around the riverbank, certain this was the spot Veronica's letter mentioned. However, they'd seen no tracks or broken flora to suggest the women and Challenger made it to the river for their fishing trip. He wondered and then became certain that Locke had something to do with his friends not being where they said they would.

"Yes, he probably does," said Marguerite though John hadn't voiced his concern. He looked at her with surprise, but she just smiled. "I know you too well, John. In any case, I was thinking the same thing. Locke isn't a fool. He knows the best way to hurt or coerce us is through what we love most."

"Then we'll have to do it and rescue them as well," he said with a sigh. To kill Locke seemed an even more daunting task now. "Are you sure we even can kill him? If he has all these powers and he's only grown stronger over time..."

"He's still a man of sorts. A gun or other violent means will work. It's getting close enough that's the trick."

"And how are we going to do that now?" John asked. Marguerite smirked after a moment of thought. It was the sort of expression that unnerved John.

"I might have an idea. You'll need to get your Marguerite out of the way and I can take her place."

"Seems simple enough."

XXX

Locke returned to the camp his past self made and maintained for Marguerite's benefit and wondered where his beautiful conquest was. Though he hadn't shared it with his past self, he intended to change Marguerite and take her with him to the future.

He would take her to his time and this round he would ensure she never learned the truth. His cohorts were dead. Marguerite killed Condillac and in a fit of anger, Locke had killed Blum. He still had the shirt stained with the cheery man's blood. Locke's plan overlooked many things, most of them involving rules of space and time, but he was too blind by his determination and anger to see past his overconfidence.

There was the sound of hooves and in a few moments Marguerite appeared on the sweaty back of the grey mare he'd gifted her. She was smiling and relaxed as she pulled the mare to a halt in the area set up for the horses. With a small wave to him, she dismounted gracefully, her curly hair loose and beautifully wild over her shoulders. It was enough to make him sigh and smile back in genuine satisfaction as she began brushing and caring for her horse.

"I wondered if you would like to go for a walk once you're done," he said, drawing closer. What he also hadn't told his past self was that he intended to push ahead with their plan and move things at a faster pace. A little manipulation and he could even appear to be her hero.

Suspecting nothing out of the usual from her companion, Marguerite smiled and assented. "Where should we go?"

"Oh," said Locke with an air of nonchalance, "I thought we'd go through the city again. There are some temples that I think would delight your intellectual leanings."

Marguerite laughed. "If you show me everything there is to see, how will you tempt me to become immortal?"

"There's so much more," he said with a grin. "I promise."

"Then let's go."

XXX

The city was full of bird chatter and the buzz of insects when Locke and Marguerite entered.

Though neither noticed, they were under the watchful gaze of two warriors, the same group of natives that had both attacked Marguerite and Locke a few days ago and who would find Challenger, Finn and Veronica. As silently as they watched, the natives left. They would tell their leader that the evil one had returned and trouble was brewing.

"What did you want to show me?" asked Marguerite playfully. She was in high spirits after a good night's sleep, an indulgent host, many generous gifts, and a few days of happy forgetfulness. So busy with Locke, she'd nearly forgotten her rift with John Roxton. It was only in the evenings or lulls in their busy days when her mind would wander to the man.

"You'll see. It's quite grand. The temple of the Mayan rain god."

"Chac."

Locke pretended to miss a step out of surprise and looked at her with false shock. He knew very well what her intellectual accomplishments were. "You do astound me, my dear. How do you know that?"

"I may know a thing or two about ancient civilizations," she said with a playful tilt of her lips.

Locke grinned and stopped a few yards away from a mass of grime-covered stones. To the untrained eye it was a small hill of grasses, fallen leaves and twisting trees. To Marguerite and Locke, it was a short pyramid with a doorway that clearly led down into the earth rather than up into the stonework.

With a delighted chuckle, Marguerite passed Locke and crouched at the entrance to the pyramid, peering inside like an excited child. This was the sort of dirty work she enjoyed. The rediscovery of ancient treasures, cultural as well as monetary, provided her with a particular thrill she remembered fondly from her childhood of exploring the standing stones of England.

As her back was turned, Marguerite didn't see Locke take out a dart and blowpipe from behind some fallen bricks. Quickly and with one eye on the entranced woman, Locke loaded the pipe and levelled it at her back. Then, putting as much sudden alarm into his voice as though a pack of raptors had jumped out at him, he shouted to her.

"Marguerite, look out!" Before she could turn fully, Locke put the pipe to his lips and forced the dart out and right into her back. She staggered, but didn't collapse entirely. He tossed the blowpipe away and rushed to her.

"What happened?" Marguerite asked, her eyes straining to remain open. The poison of the dart worked quickly, but she struggled against it.

"You were hit."

"Where are they?" Her eyes glanced to the trees around them, looking for their attackers, but her vision was clouding.

"I have powers as you've seen. They ran off, but you shouldn't worry about them now. I have to get you to the pools."

"Pools?" The edges of her vision was darkening and a fuzzy promise of oblivion was just beyond her reach. A harsh shake from Locke woke her a bit. There was enough worry in his voice to make her pay attention. Vaguely, in the back of her mind she thought there was something off about his worry. If she could have thought clearly, she would have noted that his eyes had a sparkle of satisfaction, not concern.

"You have to stay awake until I get you there. Once the process has started, the poison will have no hold on you."

"Process?"

"I'm going to make you immortal."

"No!"

"Marguerite, it's the only way to save your life. I don't have the antidote for their dart and you're already fading fast."

Marguerite made a feeble protest, but Locke scooped her up and carried her to the group of pools in which she'd nearly lost her life once before. The pedestals around them jumped to life with cheery orange flames.

"Please." The poison hadn't taken all her senses and her eyes fluttered open to gaze at him with a tired pleading. "I don't want to die."

"Don't worry, my love. I'm saving you."

"No." It was weak and Locke ignored her easily. She was already gone when his foot settled on the top step of the temple platform.

Locke didn't waste time but walked directly into the closest pool and lowered Marguerite's unconscious body beneath the water. This time there was no struggle. The dart had done its work.

Bubbles rose from the water and then a gunshot narrowly missed Locke's head.

He reared back, letting Marguerite drop and scrambled from the pool as he was assailed at once by two ferocious blondes. Challenger held the smoking gun and ran to Marguerite as Veronica and Finn launched themselves at Olmec.

Though powerful, the trickster god was unable to defend himself from the kicks and punches of two determined female warriors and he could see the descendants of the ruined city quietly surrounding them, filtering through the trees. As much as he wished for a worthwhile companion and to please Mordren, he didn't want to be killed by such lowly creatures as these mortals. He would get rid of these pests and then return for her.

Without so much as a backward glance at the woman he was leaving, Locke ran. His warrior enemies pursued, but he knew too well how to elude them. With a whistle, his stallion was summoned and he was gone.

Challenger hauled Marguerite's prone form out of the water and leaned over her. Finn and Veronica left Locke to his pursuers and joined him, both frowning with concern.

"Is she..." Veronica couldn't finish the question.

"No, just unconscious," Challenger assured them. Judging by her pallor, pulse, and a discolouration in her eyes, it appeared that she'd been the victim of a temporary paralysis drug. He explained his diagnosis to the two women around him. Finn knelt next to him and together they turned Marguerite on her side where she soon began to wake.

"Don't move too fast," said Finn as Marguerite stirred and then shot up in alarm. Her last memory was of Locke saying he would make her immortal. She looked down at herself, soaked to the bone and trembling with weakness. It was only her friend's arms which allowed her to sit up without collapsing.

"Am I - did Locke -" The possibility that he really had completed the ritual frightened her more than she could explain. "Did he change me?"

Challenger smiled and even Veronica let out a relieved chuckle. "No, I don't think so. You were only in the water a few seconds."

Withholding tears, Marguerite took a steadying breath and nodded.

"Didn't you want to go with him?" asked Finn. It was a question Veronica was glad Finn asked or else she would have and Marguerite tended to be somewhat more open with the younger girl.

"No!" The answer was immediate and vehement, allaying any doubts the others may have had. "He came along and offered me lodgings for a while."

"And after last time," said Veronica with a bit of disbelief, "you didn't think twice about trusting him?"

"I never said I trusted him," said Marguerite as she rose to her feet a bit shakily. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with them all looking down at her. "It just didn't seem to matter anymore," she admitted. The presence of her friends was little more than a momentary relief to her. With them came back all the unpleasant memories of the past weeks, the way they'd all acted as though she were a trog, how she'd had to give up the man she loved, and his quick attachment to another. It made her wonder why she felt relief to not be tied to Locke.

Of course, the others had no idea that's where her thoughts were. As far as they knew Marguerite had found Roxton and returned to the tree house days ago.

"Why would you need lodgings and why would you say it doesn't matter?" Veronica was surprised and a little uneasy with such a statement. It suggested Marguerite had lost the will to live, but the only thing that she could think of that would make Marguerite feel that way was if she lost Roxton. Had the second Locke accomplished his goals? Finn and Challenger shared a concerned look with her. They too realized the implications. However, Marguerite didn't know that would be their concern and tried to deflect their attention away from her.

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

"We were ambushed by Locke... well, one of them and he gave us to another Locke and -"

Finn's rapid explanation was halted by Challenger's impatient interruption. "Where is Roxton?"

Marguerite's forehead pinched as she looked at him. "Wherever you left him no doubt." She frowned. "I suppose he and Liana are keeping each other good company."

It was time for the others to frown in confusion. "Did you hit your head?" asked Finn.

"Marguerite..." Veronica didn't really know what to say. She had to force the words out through a muddle of confusion. "Liana is gone."

"Gone where? Did she find her family?"

"She was Danielle in disguise. She's dead and Captain Roxton disappeared. Don't you remember?"

"Captain Roxton?" For a moment she dared to hope, but then her self-preservation kicked in and she quashed the unbidden giddiness. It was too strange to be true even if the tiniest voice whispered that it was not the strangest thing she'd seen in life. "Stop pulling my leg."

"But -" Veronica looked to Challenger and Finn for help. However, they seemed at an equal loss as to what to do or say. "You were there. How can you not remember? Finn and I found you in a cave with John and when we went back to the tree house, we confronted Danielle and Captain Roxton. You really don't remember that?"

"It was days ago," said Finn. They had all moved closer to the brunette and Finn's light fingers shifted her hair aside, looking for a bump or bruise to explain the memory loss. Marguerite batted her hand away irritably.

"No, I don't remember because it never happened. I've been with Locke since I left."

"Well," said Challenger, "it seems to have been quite the month for doubles. First it was John then Locke and now we seem to have encountered a doppelganger Marguerite."

"You're all crazy."

"You run off with Locke and you're calling us crazy?" Finn's exclamation made Veronica snort, barely catching a giggle and even Marguerite's lips twitched. Though Veronica wasn't sure if it was more from amusement or irritation.

"It's true," said Veronica. "Come back to the tree house and see for yourself." She didn't mention her new concerns about what they may find at home and neither did anyone else.

"Sorry, but I meant to leave and this setback hasn't changed that."

"But you didn't have to go," said Finn with a triumphant smile. "Roxton was never going to marry Liana - or whatever her name was."

Marguerite froze in the act of turning away. True that Roxton's proposal to Liana had been the final push for her to flee, but it wasn't the only catalyst. Old doubts and fears would not be silenced. "That's not why I left... not entirely."

"Well, if it was your argument, Roxton seems to have gotten over it. When you come back you two can talk it over and everything will be back to the way it was before."

"I'm not coming back."

Finn's cheer sank away and Veronica frowned anew. Challenger had up to this point left the conversation to the women, trusting that they were more adept at convincing Marguerite to return. However, it was apparent that the brunette did not intend to be swayed in this. She may not have had the desire to be immortal, a bit of news which surprised even Challenger, but she still felt the need to be alone.

"My dear," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "if you do or ever did love John, then you need to come back with us to at least clear this matter up. If you still feel the need to go on your own after, then there is little we can do to stop you, but first we need to find out who or what is impersonating you."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Marguerite looked up into his kind, solemn face with hesitant trust. He'd not lied to her before so she couldn't immediately throw away his words.

"Most assuredly." He smiled as Marguerite sighed deeply.

XXX

Roxton and Marguerite didn't have time to stop and rest though they were both growing weary. They alternated between quick walking and jogging through the forest, trying not to use up all their energy before the real battle had begun.

It was while they walked when a strange sound drew their attention. It was like the roar of a dinosaur, but more human and yet inhuman. Roxton thought it was like a man trying to scream by drawing air instead of releasing it.

Marguerite recognized the sound and rushed forward, her heart leaping into her throat. Who was Locke killing now? She burst through the foliage to a familiar and horrible scene.

Locke stood, his horse a few feet away, with a native man held by the throat. Locke's mouth was almost on the unfortunate victim's. Their position was similar to Marguerite's healing of Roxton or Locke's breathing immortality into Marguerite. However, instead of breathing into the man he held, Locke was inhaling, sucking life straight from the poor man. She and Roxton could see the man's life force moving like a bright fog from his mouth into Locke's. Already the warrior's hair had turned grey in places.

"Let him go," Marguerite demanded. She held up her pistol and Roxton his rifle.

"Marguerite." Locke smirked. "You've been very bad."

"Not so much as you," she said, glancing at the pale bodies behind him. There were three other men who'd had their lives stolen. Their hair was whiter than snow and their skin sunken and blue.

The man Locke held gave a last shudder, too much of his energy already gone, and closed his eyes forever.

Locke looked at the dead man he held with disappointment. "Look what you made me waste." He tossed the body to the ground like a chicken leg picked clean.

In a swift move that took even Marguerite by surprise, he raised his hand and let loose a jolt of pure energy. It hit Marguerite in the chest causing her to rise and fall back as though she'd been hit by a truck. The effect was the result of his feeding off the warrior's lives. Already strong and more connected to the current of energy around him, he was like a dark beacon of power.

It made the hairs on Roxton's arms and neck stand on end, but what really concerned him was how still Marguerite lay after the blow. Without hesitating, he levelled his rifle and fired.

Locke moved with inhuman speed, dodging Roxton's shot. In the blink of an eye, he stood before the human hunter. Before Roxton could react, Locke had a hand on his throat and one over his nose. Locke opened his mouth and moved close to Roxton's.

There was the horrible sucking sound and Roxton felt a pressure in his body. The only way he could describe it was to compare it to diving too deep in a body of water. He closed his mouth tight and struggled as best he could to clench his body, trying to keep that essential spark in himself and out of the trickster god.

Roxton's resistance didn't matter much to Locke. He could wait for the man to take a breath and then there would be no stopping the process. It didn't occur to him to simply snap Roxton's neck because like a shark sensing blood, he wanted to consume more of the pure life energy he'd already indulged in.

His lungs ached. The need for air rang in his ears and pressured his muscles. Roxton gave in and opened his mouth.

It hurt more than he thought it would, like a giant was pulling on every muscle of his body at once, and knew it was the feeling of having his life stolen. He felt weaker than he could remember feeling in years.

A flash of white light tinged in green sparks exploded against Locke, causing him to drop Roxton as they fell to the ground. Roxton coughed and moved away.

Marguerite was on her feet again. As she drew back her hand a bit, the trees and grasses leaned closer to her as though they were bowing to her, bending to her will. In a sense they were. Currents like liquid sunlight, visible even to Roxton's mortal eyes moved from the tips of every leave, stem and branch around Marguerite and snaked up her legs into her arm. When she pushed her hand forward again, the white and green light shot out. Locke was too fast though.

Already on his feet again, Locke used his own black magic to block her attack. They stood locked in their battle, each trying to force their own power to overcome the other's.

It soon became apparent that as strong as Marguerite was, she was unable to maintain her efforts. Her legs began to tremble and she had to pay more attention to her efforts against Locke than her syphoning of power from things around her. With a final crackle, the trees and plants snapped back into place and she was alone in her efforts.

Roxton during this had snuck into the trees once he'd gathered his strength to stand, intending to circle around to the other side of the fighters to retrieve his rifle. It was slow going. He managed to get halfway there before the battle was over.

Full of fresh fuel and many years her senior, Locke's energy overcame Marguerite's. She landed with a final thud, her energy spent and didn't get up.

Roxton moved through the trees as fast as he could, but he was still weak and shaky. His heart was in his throat, but he forced himself to move faster when Marguerite fell.

In a second Locke was kneeling next to her, a knife in hand. There was no time for Roxton to intervene.

Locke smirked, but didn't hesitate in order to gloat. Instead, he plunged the sharp blade into his former lover's chest swiftly and without remorse. It didn't hit the heart, but slid in between her ribs deep enough that he knew it would only be a matter of minutes before she succumbed.

"I'd love to sit here and watch the life fade from your eyes, my dear," said Locke, leaning in close, "but I have other business to attend to." Forgetting all about the mortal man behind him, Locke went to his horse and once again disappeared from sight.

Like a nightmare where the air is too thick to move through, Roxton couldn't move fast enough to Marguerite's side.

Roxton fell to his knees in front of Marguerite and cradled her head in his lap. "Please, you can't die," he begged. Though this wasn't the same woman he fell in love with, she was close enough that it broke his heart to see the life draining from her. She just smiled.

"Don't worry, John. It's not me you should mourn over."

"Marguerite -"

"No," she interrupted. "I'm not your Marguerite. I am just her shadow." Drawing on her fading strength, she pulled a sealed piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "She will doubt you because she can't help it. Give her this. It might make her see the options she couldn't see before."

John held the letter, but shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes. "You can give them to her yourself. You're strong, powerful. Can't you heal yourself?"

Marguerite shook her head. "It's too late and I don't want to anyway."

Desperate to ease her suffering, Roxton held her closer. "What can I do? Please, tell me something I can do to help you." Marguerite smiled, charmed anew by him.

"Kiss me goodbye."

He bent his head to his chest a moment, suppressing his rising emotions then bent to give Marguerite her last request. It was all he could do so he did it well. He didn't push for passion but kissed her tenderly and knew her pleasure in it by the way she smiled against his lips.

When he pulled away, she gave a last sigh and closed her eyes, the light already fading from them.

Though he wished to stay, to bury her or do something as a show of respect, time was pressing and he forced himself to set her body down and seek his friends. He knew he would have to hurry if he was to save his own Marguerite.

When he looked back, the body was gone. He didn't know what that meant.

Time moved all too quickly and Roxton felt himself moving too slowly after Locke. Though the horse's prints disappeared, Roxton had his suspicions about where Locke was going. Sure enough, his gut instinct didn't disappoint.

XXX

Despite Challenger's apparent triumph, Finn and Veronica kept a close eye on Marguerite as they headed back to the tree house. Given the persistence of their enemy, they also kept a sharp eye and ear for approaching horses.

They were in some rough terrain with boulders, large trees and a steep bank down to a gurgling trickle of a stream when a gunshot rang out and Veronica fell with a scream, clutching her shoulder. She tumbled off the riverbank, onto the worn stones. Finn, reaching for her friend, moved just in time to avoid the same fate. She jumped down after Veronica and pulled her against the relative shelter of the opposite bank, out of sight of the shooter. Challenger was pulled roughly to the side by Marguerite, forcing them into the bushes and behind a group of larger boulders.

Two more shots were fired, but Challenger pulled his long legs in time to avoid getting a serious wound and Finn ducked out of sight. As for Marguerite, the shooter was not aiming for her though she was pressed in close with the scientist.

"Send Marguerite to me and no one else needs to be hurt."

Challenger looked over at Marguerite as Locke's voice echoed against the trees. She had her own pistol at the ready, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He recognized her anger and was glad to see it.

"I don't belong to you, you bastard and I never will."

Like a ghost, Locke's voice seemed to come from the air itself. "I'm only thinking of what's best for you, Marguerite. They can't understand you like I do."

"If you think this is the way to win me over, then you don't know me at all." She peered around the boulder, trying to figure out where he was. From her position she could see Finn doing the same.

There was a flicker of movement through the trees just a little to the right of Veronica and Finn's cover. It was human and it stood still, just within Marguerite's view, but out of her line of fire. Needing to get closer, she motioned for Challenger to stay and be quiet then crawled on her stomach closer to the drop off. She managed to get behind a tree's upraised root.

Heart thudding, she lined up her pistol and was suddenly seized from behind. She and her attacker struggled, during which she noticed Challenger lying unconscious behind the boulder where she'd left him. The man had the element of surprise, size, and he had his arms around her before she could so much as aim a kick. There was no use fighting and wasting energy. When she stopped struggling and looked behind, she was once again surprised.

"Condillac? I guess you didn't stray too far from your leash after all." The man smiled and held on tighter. There was a bit of movement across the gulf. His eyes darted across the gulf of the sunken stream. Marguerite followed his gaze. It was Blum she'd been aiming at. She could see him properly now that she was standing. Where then was Locke? The answer came too soon.

"Take care of these extras," said Locke with a nod in the direction of Finn and Veronica as he took hold of Marguerite. Her struggles renewed as she was transferred to his grip, but he held tight, even anticipating her moves and blocking them. "You know what to do."

"No," Marguerite dug in her heels and tried to get a hand on Condillac. It was a pathetic attempt to save her friends and herself, but she had to try. She managed to grab Condillac's shirt with her nails, snagging it like a determined thorn before Locke yanked her arm back.

"Come now, Marguerite," said Locke as he pulled her deeper into the trees, "don't be a pain." Marguerite renewed her struggles against him, but he twisted her arms behind her back and snapped handcuffs on her wrists. Grabbing her upper arm, he forced her along.

"I've made my choice and it isn't you. Why can't you just accept that? Why come back for me at all?"

In reply Locke spun her around and meshed his lips with hers, kissing aggressively. He let her go and resumed their walk when he felt the sting of her teeth and tasted blood. "That's why. You have such spirit and you're wasting it here."

"You sent Danielle and Captain Roxton to the tree house, didn't you?" Marguerite twisted her head to see his reaction. It was minor, but his eyes widened and lips compressed slightly. She felt him tense as well. Not a confession, but close enough.

"I don't know what you're talking about. The only thing I've ever done was try to secure your happiness."

"I'm not going with you. If you really want to make me happy, you won't do this."

"I know better than you do what will make you happy."

"Please, I don't want to die."

"And you won't. You will live forever." Locke pressed a kiss to her hair, inhaling deep though she jerked away. "I can give you eternity and I will protect you from anything that would cause you harm."

"I don't want immortality either."

"No? Or just not with me?" Marguerite remained silent, uncertain herself of the answer. "I'll give you gold and jewels enough to slate even your thirst." He sighed at her stony silence. "Once you're immortal you'll see through my eyes."

"I won't see anything the way you do because I'm not going with you. Let go!" she shouted and attempted to dig in her heels. Locke pulled harder, but at the same time another voice interrupted, one Marguerite felt a rush of indescribable joy at hearing.

"Let her go." Roxton stood with his rifle aimed at Locke.

Too much time and effort had gone into his attempts. Locke didn't hesitate to raise his own handgun and pull the trigger. His aim was honed by years of practice and the bullet would have hit Roxton square in the chest, but Marguerite pushed her shoulder into him, causing them both to stumble back. She lost her footing, forcing more weight into him and they both fell to the ground.

Roxton was on them in a second, pulling Marguerite to her feet and away before Locke could renew his grip. The sudden move with her hands handcuffed didn't help her equilibrium. Marguerite ended up on her rear in the dirt behind Roxton who had to move quickly in order to avoid Locke's wrath.

Roxton attempted to block a swinging kick, which knocked the rifle from his hands.

The two men came to blows, catching each other hard with knuckles that quickly became bruised and scratched. The fight was too close for Locke to use his powers or Roxton to use his guns.

Locke threw a heavy punch that caught John in the stomach. He doubled over, unable to catch his breath. A hook connected with his jaw and he fell to one knee, but raised a hand in time to block a third hit. He grabbed hold of the offending arm and jerked, pulling Locke off balance and used the momentum to get to his feet once more. A knee to Locke's stomach and it was the trickster who wheezed.

Marguerite meanwhile got up and looked around for anything that would get her hands free so she could help John. There was nothing on the ground, but Marguerite had more than one trick up her sleeve thanks to years in espionage. Reaching up and tipping her head backwards, she was able to reach the pins holding her stubborn wisps of hair away from her face. Grasping the tiny bit of metal, she pinched it into the keyhole of the cuffs.

The men gave up on exchanging blows from a distance and began grappling, trying to hit or kick each other in the kidneys or the shins.

A click.

Locke threw Roxton off and back a step.

Marguerite scrambled to her feet, the cuffs dangling from one wrist.

Locke raised his leg and kicked Roxton in the chest. It sent the tall hunter into a tree a few feet away.

Marguerite snatched up Roxton's fallen rifle.

The energy was building within Locke. He would have his revenge and make this upstart mortal suffer. His hand rose to expel that dark energy at his open target.

A gunshot.

Locke looked down at his stomach in shock as crimson spread underneath his white shirt and back up at his killer.

Marguerite glared, the gun steady and ready to fire again if necessary.

"You could have been so powerful," said Locke, falling to his knees. Marguerite's eyes met his without remorse or regret.

"I'd rather be happy." She felt a hand press her shoulder as she and Roxton watched Locke die. When the last glint of life left his eyes cold and dull, his body dissolved into ash and disappeared. It took a few moments after for Marguerite to gather her courage to turn around and look at Roxton. When she did, she knew without a doubt that the others had been telling the truth. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes, so different from his ancestor now she knew what she was seeing. The hand he kept on her arm was warm as it held her gently. It still didn't change anything.

"You destroyed the evil one," said a deep man's voice in halting English. Marguerite and Roxton spun around to see a warrior much like the one Locke had killed. He regarded them with curiosity and awe. A dozen others leaked out from the surrounding jungle, all watching with the same expression.

"Yes," said Marguerite. "Olmec is dead."

The warrior dipped his head low and the others followed suit. "We are grateful." He raised his head again, a happy smile on his face. "You are welcome friends to our village and this holy place forever." With that he turned and motioned for his men to leave. Like ghosts, they were soon and silently gone.

"So, you wouldn't have gone with him?" Roxton broke the silence first, his eyes searching hers.

"Not knowing what he'd done, no." There was a moment of silence as they regarded each other. "I should be going."

Roxton's eyes widened and he grabbed both her upper arms. "You can't be serious."

"John, I can't go back with you. My leaving was the right thing to do... for everyone. You'll see that sooner or later."

"No, I won't let you." Marguerite's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You won't let me? I don't see how you can stop me."

"What about everything we have, everything we've said to each other? I love you. You said you love me too. Did that mean nothing to you?"

There was a long moment of silence as Marguerite thought about her reasoning and how to express it so that he would see the way she did. She could think of nothing fast enough.

"I have something for you." His expression tight, but slightly hopeful, Roxton took the sealed pages he'd been given by Marguerite's future self and handed them to her. "Come back to the tree house, please. We have a lot to talk about and it's cowardly to run away when my back is turned."

As he spoke, Marguerite opened the papers and read. At first she thought he'd found and ripped some pages from her journal. It was written in her own handwriting, coded and addressed to her. The more she read, however, the more confused she became. She read quickly so only a minute or two passed before she nodded and John took her elbow to lead her home.

Marguerite, I am you from another time line. I went with Francois Locke and became his companion. It was the biggest mistake of my entire life, even bigger than our first marriage. Do not go with him. Liana and the man you think is in love with her are imposters sent by Mordren and Locke to sever your relationship with our friends. Trust John. Go back to the tree house and read our journal. I can tell you more.

The words in the letter rang around in Marguerite's head as she allowed John to pull her along. Her gaze barely acknowledged the landscape as it passed or noticed when Finn, Veronica and Challenger joined them. Veronica's arm was bound in a makeshift sling and Challenger grimaced every now and then, placing a hand to his tender head. Marguerite paid more attention when the group recounted the whole of the story as they knew it and she gave a somewhat edited version of what she'd experienced. At times she felt John's fingers rubbing her arm. It was soothing and pleasant. She had to remind herself to remain aloof.

"So Olmec is really gone," said Veronica with relief.

"Yes." Marguerite remembered Locke's servants. "How did you three get away from Condillac and Blum?"

"Well," said Veronica, sharing an uneasy look with Finn, "I'm not really sure." Challenger shrugged. He'd still been unconscious.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Finn. "They were shooting at us and I was just about out of arrows," she patted her crossbow, "when they just stopped."

"Stopped?" Roxton was intrigued. "Why?"

"I don't know, but they looked like they were in pain and then they started to... to..."

"Decay," supplied Veronica. "They just shrivelled up and turned to dust in a matter of seconds. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes."

Marguerite and John glanced at each other. "Funny," said Marguerite, "but that's what happened to Locke. I wonder if they were all connected."

"He did make them... or so he claimed," said Roxton.

"Hmm." That was the last Marguerite and Roxton spoke until back inside the tree house. There was plenty of chatter around them from Finn, Veronica, and Challenger, but the brown-haired couple were lost in their own thoughts.

When the tree house came into view, Roxton and Marguerite lagged behind, allowing the others to go up without them. Roxton made sure Marguerite didn't take the opportunity to flee from him by tightening his grip on her arm.

Taking a deep breath, Marguerite spoke, interrupting before John could do more than turn to her. "I'll stay... for now, but there's something I have to do before we discuss anything more."

"What?"

"My - Marguerite left me something."

She left him then and joined the others in the elevator. As soon as her things were hung up, she went to her bedroom.

It seemed like years since Marguerite saw her bedroom, but of course it wasn't and everything was as she'd left it. She took a moment to just look around. Despite herself, it felt like home. With a sigh, she opened the trunk at the foot of her bed. Removing the false top, she retrieved her journal and began to read.

XXX

"What do you think she's doing in there?" Finn asked. Darkness had fallen, dinner come and gone, and still the brunette had remained in her bedroom.

"Hard to guess," said Veronica distractedly. She and Finn were playing chess and it was her move.

John jumped up from his seat where he'd been staring out onto the empty balcony. The book in his lap wasn't helping him appear distracted. The two women glanced his way, but returned to their game quickly. They didn't need to ask what his intentions were as he moved downstairs. On his way he made one stop.

The knock on her door was light, but by the tread of the boots she'd heard prior to it, she already knew who it was. "Come in, John."

Roxton entered and paused, suddenly uncertain if he should interrupt. Marguerite sat at her vanity, a thick book he didn't recognize in her hands, a piece of folded paper and two rough diamonds at her elbow. She wasn't reading though. Her gaze was unfocussed, her eyes staring out her window into the dark forest. It didn't seem to bother her that he was there so he took a seat opposite her, on the edge of the thick wooden trunk.

"Is that what she left you?" John nodded at the book.

"Yes." Marguerite set it down on the table next to her and faced Roxton.

"What did she tell you?" He wished to take her hands when he asked her, but was uncertain if that was a wise move. She seemed awfully distant.

"Her whole life." With a small smile, Marguerite picked up the book and held it open for John to see. He glanced at it and was amazed. The writing was tiny, squeezing more information onto one page than he thought possible and all the writing was encoded, not English at all but symbols. "I used this code when I was a spy. She used it for some of her more detailed adventures and explanations."

"And?"

"She had a lot of confidence in you, John. After a lifetime she still loved you."

"You loved me," Roxton corrected. "She was you. No matter how changed by Locke, she was still you."

"Yes, I suppose so." Marguerite paused, swallowing hard past a sudden lump in her throat. "She says the world is very different than it was when we came to the Plateau. I think... I think..."

Roxton waited with baited breath until Marguerite launched herself at him. He barely had time to raise his arms to hold her before her lips meshed with his. Her shirt was rather crumpled and both of them breathing hard by the time John thought to pull away.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" It was incredibly difficult to sit calmly and await her answer with her warm body on his lap and her softer hand stroking his cheek.

"I'm sorry we fought and I'm sorry I left. I was a coward, afraid to lose anything of value and it made me give up the best thing that's ever happened to me." Roxton tightened his grip around her middle, giving her a squeeze.

"You didn't give it up. Everything is right here, just as you left it." His words were rewarded with another long kiss. "Does this mean you're going to stay?"

"If you still want me to."

"Hmm." John pretended to think about it while he reached into his back pocket. "Well, I don't know. You can be a pain and I can count on one hand the number of times you've apologized for anything." He sighed dramatically as she frowned. "However, there is just something irresistible about you." He pulled out a colourful bag with a flourish and placed it in her palm. Marguerite's frown turned from displeasure to curiosity.

"What is this?" She pulled the string tying the bag closed and dropped the contents into her waiting hand. When she did, she gave a little gasp. A gold bracelet gleamed prettily with writing on the inside. "What - Where did you get this?"

"I had it made. I know it's not up to your usual standards, but I wanted to get you something to keep, something to keep me on your mind."

"It's wonderful." She put it on and eyed the decorations carved into the metal with interest. Inside the band had read 'For my lovely Marguerite, my love.' The outside had swirls of flowers and chips of diamond.

"Really?" He didn't realize how worried he'd been about her reaction until he had to actually hand the gift over. "You really like it?"

"Yes." She giggled as John pulled her in for a searing kiss.

It was over an hour later before they could have a proper conversation. They lay in Marguerite's bed, their clothing wrinkled beyond salvage and lips swollen from innumerable kisses. A hand or two stroked flesh and cloth lazily.

"What was it about Locke that attracted you?" John asked.

"Nothing about him really. He offered me a place to stay and companionship. It seemed like a good enough option if I couldn't be at the tree house."

"You weren't attracted to him at all?" It wasn't vanity which made him ask but true curiosity.

"No, I always knew I couldn't trust him." She looked over Roxton's face, which was peaceful and happy. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What attracted you to Danielle?"

"When she was in disguise?"

"Then and when we first met her. I was always curious." She was also jealous, but he didn't need to know that. She was at least glad to see him take a long moment to think about his answer.

"For one moment I was weak. I don't remember everything that happened with her." Marguerite gave a snort. "I don't. It's true. Parts of it seem like a dream. I don't even remember meeting her, but I will admit that I encouraged her too much afterwards," he said with regret.

"Encouraged? Roxton, you were practically in love with her."

"No, not even close. I was in love with you. What attracted me to her was that sometimes she reminded me of you... but you didn't want me or I thought you didn't and she did. I was lonely and I wanted you, but she wanted me and I liked being wanted for a small change. She played games, and was exciting, and strong. That's what I saw in her... you. Do you blame me for a moment of weakness I've regretted ever since?"

"No, I never did blame you for that." It was true. She knew better than anyone the temptations all people were prone to. If he could sometimes overlook her drive for wealth, she could overlook his prior indiscretions.

"You know," Roxton said after some thought, "for all your talk of prior husbands and lovers, I've never seen you take a love interest."

"How could I with you always following me around like a dog? Besides, someone had to keep you and the others out of trouble." John laughed. She pressed her lips to his chin, adoring him.

XXX

In his cavern fortress Mordren was in a rage. All but the goblin's king and a few humans fled the room, not eager to face Mordren's temper. Rock exploded, showering everyone with dust and bits of rubble. The table around which the man's supporters once sat had cracked and lay in a heap.

"How could this happen?" Mordren screamed and let loose another blast of energy, causing more of the wall to crumble.

"My Lord," soothed a mature woman with dark hair pinned up in a strict bun, "trusting Locke to this task was a mistake, but we can easily recover."

"Recovery is not possible when your enemies hold all the power. They have the key, the Trion, and the loyalty of the Chosen One."

"Loyalty can be swayed with the right motivation." She drew closer to him, unafraid of him now that he'd stopped destroying things. "You know what she seeks."

Mordren laughed. "Are you offering to go then?"

The woman drew a sharp breath, but quickly schooled her expression into one of submission instead of reluctance. "If it is your will."

Mordren thought about it for a long moment. He felt the death of Locke and Danielle keenly as a loss of two strong allies. Though the two could only have been trusted to act for their own selfish reasons, Mordren needed as many players on his side as he could get.

"No," he said finally. "I need you here until the last." He turned to the king of goblins, who regarded him with dark, unreadable eyes. "You have one last chance to redeem yourselves. I want the key and the Trion, and I want the Chosen One."

"Her companions?" the creature asked in his raspy, earthen voice.

"Kill them all."


End file.
